


Ordinary Outliers

by kyrieanne



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2017-12-31 09:46:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyrieanne/pseuds/kyrieanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity has never been ordinary, but she's always imagined an ordinary life for herself after a traumatic childhood. Then she meets Oliver Queen and everything changes. </p><p>Or five times Oliver comes to Felicity's apartment and the time in-between.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Felicity Smoak story with eventual Olicity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3.21.16 - I've loved writing this story, but I've lost steam on it. Realistically I'll never finish. I hate to do that to a WIP, but I have other stories I want to write more and only so many hours in the day. So consider this story a finished WIP. Thanks for reading! - KA

***

The first time Oliver Queen comes to Felicity's apartment it is a week after Walter is found.

There's a knock at her front door and Felicity's best friend Lenore jabs Felicity with an elbow, "Chinese is here.”

Lenore doesn’t even break her intense concentration on getting the red nail polish on her big toe just right. She's the one who got Felicity into bright nail polish when they were in undergrad, and she's always trying to get Felicity to branch into themed nails - hearts and shamrocks and jack-o-lanterns - but it was a bit much even for Felicity. She did acquiesce to lightening bolts whenever they rewatched Harry Potter.

“Do you need change?” Gina calls out from the kitchen. Felicity can hear her other best-friend friend muttering about her lack of matching plates, “You’re a grown woman, Felicity. This is disgraceful.”

Felicity smiles as she grabs cash from her wallet. This - Friday night in with her two best friends - feels right. This is what her life used to be like before Oliver Queen showed up in her office with a lap top and the worst lie in the history of tall tales. Friday night movie marathons and greasy Chinese and shameless gossip. That had been Felicity’s life, and she is glad it’s back.

It's been the three of them since their first semester at MIT. In a sea of brilliant geeks, Felicity felt - for the first time in her life - ordinary. Ordinary, but also invisible because even among her classmates she was an outlier. Felicity loved computers. She did. They made sense in a way the world didn’t, but Felicity also loved the world for how it didn’t make sense. While her classmates were happy to stay huddled in labs and in their own micro-worlds, that just wasn’t enough for her. She wanted something more. Then on her third day two girls approached Felicity in the cafeteria and asked where she had gotten her dress. In the same breath they complimented her on her answer from their electrical engineering lecture that morning.

“We think you should be our friend,” Lenore said and Gina was already sitting down at Felicity’s empty table.

“We gotta stick together,” she said.

Felicity was never quite sure how they picked her out, but she was too desperate to care and with time it didn’t matter. Lenore and Gina loved computers as much as Felicity, but they loved other things as well and most importantly they loved her. For all practical purposes they were her family and now that she was done helping Oliver find Walter she could return to them.

The delivery man knocks again and Felicity calls out as she counts out the tip, “Coming. Hold your wontons.”

Felicity laughs as she pulls the door open and there he is, patiently waiting, hands stuffed in his jean pockets, shoulders wet from the rain. Oliver Queen. Behind him, Diggle.

“You’re not Chinese,” she squeaks.

Oliver holds up two paper bags, “But I do have the wontons.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, “We intercepted the delivery guy on the way up so I just took care of it. By the way, it’s safer to meet delivery guys in the lobby. More public. You never know who they might really be.”

Felicity closes her eyes, counts to three, and sighs, “Because the delivery man could be a masked assassin?”

“Lili, did he bring the egg rolls?” Gina comes up behind Felicity. She can hear her friends gasp when Gina sees Oliver and Diggle.

Oliver quirks an eyebrow, “Lili?”

“Nick name,” Felicity squares her shoulders. “Why are you here?”

Oliver holds out the bags of food, “I thought we could have dinner.”

Felicity yanks the bags from him, “It is girl’s night. So no.” She starts to close the door, but Oliver catches it and leans in.

“You’re not returning my calls. Or Diggle’s. He’s starting to take it personally.”

“No, I’m not.”

Oliver exhales. “We need to talk.”

Felicity holds her chin high. She agreed to help Oliver until they found Walter and now that he was home safe, the sane thing for Felicity to do would be to back away. To return to her ordinary life as an IT girl at Queen Consolidated. To finally have time to spend Friday nights with her two best friends instead of in Oliver’s brooding vigilante cave. To be a person again. That’s exactly what she told him at the hospital. She recited her rehearsed speech as fast as possible and fled. And since then she has ignored his phone calls. She has also fallen asleep every night in front of the television, the police scanner she bought when she met Oliver Queen, buzzing in the corner like crickets.

She is trying to do what is smart. Get out now because Felicity is afraid of might happen if she doesn’t. She knows that if she gets in bed _\- a metaphorical bed, a very, very metaphorical bed -_ with Oliver Queen she won’t have a life. She’ll have a heap of lies to tell Gina and Lenore and hundreds of nights spent alone in the basement of Verdant. She’ll have fuzzy moral lines to cross and guilt to keep her company at night when they fail to save someone. And Felicity just doesn’t want that kind of life. She promised herself at 17 that she would really, truly live. Permanently joining team Arrow would nullify that promise.

“Wait, I know you,” Lenore pushes her way in next to Gina and points a finger over Felicity’s shoulder, “You’re Oliver Queen.”

She can see the mask slip across his face and for a second she’s mesmerized by it like a magic trick. He flashes that easy playboy Oliver grin at her friends, “I am.”

She want to ask him how he does it. How does he go from being one person to someone else so effortlessly? Felicity envies the trick. Everything she is has always been right there on the surface. If she wants to hide anything she has to bury it so deep she lies to herself.

Lenore tugs Felicity to face her. Gina lines up alongside her, arms crossed. “Felicity, why is billionaire Oliver Queen at your door?”

Oliver leans across the threshold, “We’re friends.”

She can’t fight the battle on two fronts and with a roll of her eyes, Felicity trudges toward her kitchen , “Whatever. Come in. But I’m not sharing the wontons!”

***

Diggle finds her in the kitchen. She's getting out more plates and pulling out beers. She hands him one and tips the second back. He watches her gulp down half the bottle with raised eyebrows.

“You seem put out.” 

Felicity wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, “I told him I was done.”

“Oliver needs you.”

“He needs computer skills. He has a whole IT department to recruit. Get someone else.” They pause when giggles erupt in the living room. Felicity strains against the noise. Oliver is not funny. She knows whatever Oliver said was not that funny. Her friends are making fools of themselves.

“It sounds like he has two new willing candidates right in there.” She focuses on dishing up the Chinese food.

“Your friends work for Queen Consolidated?”

“Yeah, we’re all in IT together. Or we used to be until I disappeared a few months ago,” Felicity says. “I’ve been telling them I was temporarily assigned to a special project. This is the first time I’ve seen them in months.”

“And now Oliver and I crashed your attempt to get back to your life.”

“Exactly.”

“Hey, Felicity,” Oliver comes into the kitchen, Lenore and Gina making eyes at Felicity over his shoulder, “Need help? I’m starving. The girls just said you guys were going to watch the game.” He rubs his hands together and smiles at her. 

Felicity narrows her eyes, “Who are you?”

Diggle laughs and Felicity huffs as she abandons the food and leaves the room.

Oliver looks between the girls and Diggle, “What did I do?”

***

By the fifth inning they have to order a second round of Chinese and Diggle makes a run with Lenore for more beer. Gina falls asleep at the far end of the couch. It’s just her and Oliver and the quiet hum of the television. It’s still raining and Felicity pushes herself up from the floor and begins to gather dishes.

She doesn't want to have the conversation that is hanging between them. She’s not sure she can tell him no twice.

But Oliver follows her to the kitchen and waits quietly, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, patient. Felicity makes it five minutes, which for her is nearly a record, until she whips the dish towel at him.

He catches it without blinking.

“I told you I was done,” she hisses.

He sets the dish towel aside and takes a step toward her. In her tiny kitchen it brings him uncomfortably close to her. “I know,” he says, "but I’m asking you to reconsider. We’re so close to finishing this.”

Felicity glances toward the living room where Gina sleeps. She grabs Oliver by the arm, pulls him into her bedroom, and shuts the door.

She hugs her arms to her stomach. “Okay, we’re alone. Say your peace so you can go when Diggle gets back.”

Oliver looks around her room and Felicity does a quick check to see if there are any errant bras hanging out or embarrassing pizza boxes stuffed under her bed. His gaze moves across her desk with her computer set-up, the pile of shirts on her bed from where she tried to figure out what to wear this morning, and finally to the single picture frame sitting on her dresser. He walks over and picks it up.

“You and your parents?”

She crosses to him and pulls the frame away and sets it face down on the dresser.

“Yeah,” she says.

Oliver frowns and picks the photo back up. It’s one of those studio family shots with the dull blue back ground, coordinated outfits, and stiff poses. Oliver holds it under the lamp light on her nightstand and looks from her to it. Back and forth. He quirks his head.

“These aren’t your parents,” he says, “The resemblance isn’t there.”

Felicity goes to grab the frame,“I take after my grandmother,” she says quickly, but he holds on to it. Felicity tugs, but she’ll never get it away from him. He’s too strong. She tumbles forward and he catches her with a steadying hand to her arm. He adjusts his grip so it is softer.

“Felicity,” Oliver says quietly, “who are these people in this picture with you?”

“They’re my parents. Matthew and Diana Smoak.”

“I know their names.”

She feel the flush creeping up the back of her neck. “How?”

“Don’t you think I read your personnel files before I brought you that laptop?”

“Their names wouldn’t be in my personnel files.”

“I do know how to use the Internet,” he says and then more softly, “I know about the accident.”

Felicity pulls and finally he releases the frame. “Then you know I don’t want to talk about my parents.” She holds the frame close to her chest.

“Even if you took after your grandmother, the lighting on the photo isn’t right. The shadows are in the wrong place. The angle of your hand isn’t right. That photo was doctored. That might be hard to tell when you read an old newspaper article about a couple dying in a car crash, but here it’s obvious. So tell me why you have a photo of people who aren’t your parents in your bedroom?”

“They are Matthew and Diana Smoak,” she doesn’t look at him when she says it. “They died when I was seventeen. I am their daughter.”

Oliver steps away and sinks down onto the bed. He waits, but Felicity doesn’t look at him. She stares down at her feet and reminds herself the promise she made at 17 - that she would lead a happy life. She would do the things that made people happy - have a career, fall in love, and have a family. She would see the world and live in it. She wouldn’t get wrapped up in secrets. And Oliver Queen was a secret curled inside an enigma surrounded by complication. He was everything she promised herself she wouldn’t get involved in.

If there is anything Oliver is good at doing it’s waiting. The two of them are silent for a long time and then finally he says, quietly, “Felicity, you said once you can trust me.”

Her head snaps up.“I don’t need your help.”

“Okay,” Oliver says carefully.

“I had a good life until you walked into my office. And even once I found out your secret I never planned on it becoming my world. I was going to help find Walter and that was it. I don’t like mysteries,” she says. “That was supposed to be it.”

“But?”

She holds onto the picture frame as if it were an anchor, “But nothing. That is what I promised myself and I’m going to stick to it.”

“Felicity, I get it. I’m not going to argue with you. You seem to have good friends and a nice, happy life.”

“Yeah, I do. I have a job I like and a healthy addiction to buying clothes I don’t need from Anthropologie. I have amazing friends and I get asked out. A lot. Okay maybe not a lot, but often enough to have a healthy sex life.”

“Okay.”

She fists her hands, “Not that my sex life has anything to do with this, but you gotta understand I haven’t been out on a date since I joined up with you. I missed Lenore’s birthday last month and Gina keeps baking me things because she’s worried I’m working too much to eat properly. And the worst part is I can’t tell them anything. And that…that is not okay with me because I promised myself that I was done with secrets.”

She sinks down next to him on the bed. They don’t touch. For some reason Felicity is more aware of that than usual, but she doesn’t feel a nervous energy in her fingertips like she usually does around Oliver. Instead, she feels exposed and vulnerable and she doesn’t like it. She stares at her hands fisted in her lap and feels the tension working through his body. She feels him shift. He works his jaw and closes his eyes and Felicity can tell he is trying to figure out what to say.

“Whatever it is, you can just say it,” she says. “Just blurt out whatever it is you’re thinking. It’ll actually make me feel better since I do it all the time. We’ll be even.”

“I need you…I need you and Diggle,” Oliver still won’t look at her. “I need you guys not just to help me cross off names or stop the Undertaking. I need people who know who I am. Tommy found out and left. My mother is involved in a plot to kill thousands of people. My sister and Laurel…they can never know the truth.” He finally looks at her now and Felicity doesn’t feel vulnerable or nervous. She feels honest.

He continues.“I need friends and asking you to stay is one of the most selfish things I’ve ever done because clearly something bad happened to you once. Something worse than what I thought and you deserve a normal life.”

“So do you,” she touches his arm. “You deserve an honest one.”

Because he’s Oliver, he doesn’t say anything. Felicity drops her hand, but he grabs it. Felicity looks down at their entwined fingers and closes her eyes. Really the decision was already there. It was there the night she came home from the hospital and almost steered her car toward Verdant instead of her own apartment. It was there when she found she couldn’t sleep unless she listened to the police scanner. Somehow Oliver and his mission nudged its way into her heart and now when she walked to the corner store for milk she saw the city differently. It wasn’t her home until she met Oliver.

It occurs to Felicity that the girl who was lost at MIT, the girl who didn’t want to spend her life behind a desk, with only a computer for company, the girl who wanted to live in the world, see it at its brightest and its depth, it’s that girl who finally wins out.

“Alright,” she squeezes his hand.

“What?”

“Alright. Let’s go get the bad guys.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Why?”

“Why did you change your mind?”

She isn’t brave enough to voice her entire reason so she settles for a partial truth, “I told you I don’t like mysteries.”

***


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity has never been ordinary, but she's always imagined an ordinary life for herself after a traumatic childhood. Then she meets Oliver Queen and everything changes.
> 
> Or five times Oliver comes to Felicity's apartment and the time in-between.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely comments and kudos. This is my first story in this fandom and it was so nice to receive such a warm welcome! Hope you like this chapter and let me know your thoughts in the comments!

***

The second time Oliver comes to Felicity’s apartment he brings beer.

 

It’s the hottest part of August and the city is sweltering and quiet. The Starling City Lumineers are about to start a series at home and in her kitchen Felicity dances. Journey plays on her ipod and she turns up her stereo until the crooning voices bounce off the walls. Her apartment is clean and whatever chocolate goodness Gina dropped off earlier is baking in the oven.

 

Felicity feels downright domestic. She’s happy.

 

Today she got her hair cut and indulged in a shopping trip downtown. The shopping bags are piled on the end of her couch and it thrills her to see them there. She can’t remember the last time she bought anything in an actual store. Even her groceries are delivered now.

 

“Faithfully…” she croons as she dumps chips in a bowl. Popping open a jar of salsa is about as hostess-y as she gets. The rest of the food tonight is thanks to Gina. When Felicity called her in a panic earlier today Gina was thrilled to drop off appetizers and dessert while Felicity was at work.

 

_“Thank you,” Felicity repeated over the phone, “Seriously.”_

_“You can thank me by sharing all the details at lunch tomorrow, assuming you don’t cancel on us again like last week.”_

_Felicity cringed. “I’m really sorry about that. Something came up and Oliver needed me to -,”_

_“If that man didn’t own the company I work for I would kick his ass.” Gina said over the phone. “I can’t believe he had the nerve to make you be his personal assistant or fire you. I’m telling you, you could sue him.”_

 

_As Gina talked about lawyers Felicity stole a glance at Oliver through the glass separating their offices. Isabel Rochev was dressing him down and Felicity couldn’t help but laugh at how miserable he looked pinned behind that desk. It was some solace to know he was probably more bored being CEO than she was being his executive assistant. At least she got to do whatever she wanted at her computer while he was stuck in board meetings going over finance earnings reports._

_On the other end of the phone Gina continued to grumble about Felicity’s recent job change. The lie that Oliver threatened to fire her if she didn’t take the new job was the best she could come up with to explain to her best friends why Felicity, MIT grad, was now a secretary. Lenore and Gina had championed Felicity quitting until she showed them her new salary package. It was generous to say the least. Felicity knew Oliver was paying it out of his own trust because there is no way Isabel Rochev would let him pay a secretary that much. Two years at her new pay scale and she’d be able to pay off the last of her school loans and take a summer to bum around Europe if she wanted. Of course a summer in Europe would be impossible because of Oliver and their night-time activities, but she chose not to think about that._

_Still, the increased pay scale didn’t always make her new job easy. When executives winked at her and called her sweetheart Felicity’s growl almost rivaled the Hood’s. Oliver didn’t expect her to get him coffee, but she still had to make reservations for him, reconcile his credit cards, and preempt not-so-subtle attempts by women to seduce him._

_Those women might be her least favorite part of the job because for all the gross men who thought they could stare at her chest instead of her face - for all those men - it is actually the women who made Felicity feel small. They were lawyers and accountants. They were beautiful and powerful and they tried to sail pass Felicity as if she wasn’t even there. They showed up with flimsy excuses to talk to Oliver alone and every time one tried to intimidate Felicity with an arched eyebrow, Felicity found herself wanting to scream._

_“Mr. Queen is not available,” she would say through thin lips and the women always leaned in as if they were sisters confiding secrets._

_“I think he’ll want to see me,” each woman said in a breathy sort of way. Felicity didn’t get why they used that voice, the breathy one, because there isn't anything attractive about it. They all sound like they had laryngitis. To Felicity a voice is sexy when its clear and saying intelligent things, not trying to intimidate the blonde secretary._

 

_But Felicity was the gatekeeper to Oliver Queen. No one got to him without going through her first. She kept his schedule, reminded him of the names of people he was supposed to remember, and generally ensured that he functioned. It wasn’t fulfilling work the way IT work was, but it wasn’t terrible either. And their secret identities allowed them to continue their work, the work that really mattered to Felicity, and that was was the most important reality for all of them._

 

Felicity had to remind herself of that work when she lied to Gina again that afternoon on the phone. Gina thought Felicity was having a man over and technically that was true. In fact, Felicity was having two men over - Oliver and Diggle.

 

They were coming over to watch baseball because Oliver declared the weekend a team vacation from vigilante work. He’d given Felicity today off from her job at Queen Consolidated and last night Felicity celebrated by going out with Gina and Lenore. They hadn’t gone to Verdant because Felicity wanted a real night away from Oliver Queen’s orbit.

 

She’d needed it desperately. It’d been months since the last time Oliver had come to her apartment and asked her to come back. Felicity laughs because now their talk in her bedroom that night seemed normal. The list and crossing bad guys off was a normal, straight forward existence compared to her life now. She laughs to herself in her empty kitchen that she'd once worried spending time with Oliver Queen would change her. It's not a happy laugh or a sad one, but one borne out of hindsight at the irony of it all. Once she thought she could draw a circle around Oliver Queen as simple a footnote in her life. 

 

But the Undertaking happened, Tommy died, and Oliver ran away. Felicity’s life had gone into a tailspin. She and Diggle scrambled to cover up his disappearance with his family, the company, and hide the lair from the construction company rebuilding Verdant under Thea Queen’s command. That and try to find Oliver.

 

When she hadn’t been working with Diggle Felicity spent her summer trying to pick up the pieces of her own life. Lenore lost a sister in the Glades and Felicity spent most nights at her friend’s apartment watching movies and making tea.

 

And then there were her own panic attacks. She didn’t tell anyone about them because she didn’t want Gina, Lenore, or Diggle to worry. But that night had triggered something she thought had long past. Being stuck in the basement of the lair, feeling the walls crumble above her, and knowing that even Oliver couldn’t save her if she was buried under there - it was enough to uproot all the work she’d done before starting MIT. It dragged forward memories of the car crash and the devastation that lead up to it. It reminded her of her parent’s deaths and all the other death that had happened around her. She stopped sleeping and developed an apprehension for going underground. Images of the night that changed everything crept up and it took every ounce of Felicity’s reserve not to just give into the fear, to hide out in her apartment, and give up.

 

Instead, she threw herself into work. She redid the lair. She designed a new bow for Oliver. She went with Lenore to visit her sister’s grave. She made sure there were always flowers on Tommy’s grave. She looked for Oliver. She did everything but let herself remember.

 

Which is why when Oliver was so apathetic to their arrival on the island she’d lost it on him. He had no way of knowing what the past months had cost her, but he could at least show some gratitude for what he did know.

 

Now he was back, the team was reassembled with renewed purpose and new ethics. Felicity tried not to think of Matthew and Diana Smoak often, but sometimes they snuck in and she liked to think they would be proud of her. The work she was doing with Oliver and Diggle was the kind of work they had done. She’d like to believe that they would think she was brave.

 

She didn’t like to think about how they would worry if she was happy.

 

That’s why tonight felt important. Today and its normalcy had made Felicity happy. She hummed to Journey and jumped when she heard her front door slam shut.

 

“Diggle is on his way with pizza,” Oliver walks in and he startles her so much that Felicity almost breaks a glass.

 

“Do you have a key to my place?” She stands in the doorway to her kitchen.

 

“I picked the lock. By the way why isn’t your security system on? I told you to leave it on even when you’re home.”  

 

“I keep accidentally tripping the alarm,” she sighs and goes back to the kitchen to find plates.

 

Oliver follows her and puts the beer he brought into the fridge. “I know. I get the alerts on my phone at three in the morning.”

 

“I think tying your phone to my security system is a bit much.”

 

“It’s not.” He picks at the tray of brownies Felicity pulled out of the pantry. “What were you doing up at 3:00 a.m. anyway?”

 

She swats his hands away from the food and pauses, “I was, um, getting a drink of water.”

 

He eyes the keypad next to her door, “And the water glass set off your alarm?”

 

Felicity makes studious work of putting the paper plates and napkins out on a tray just like Gina would do.  “No that was Michael.”

 

“Michael?”

 

“Or rather Michael’s back. I pushed him up against the wall and he kind of tripped the alarm.”

 

Last night Felicity had taken advantage of her morning off and found a new way to occupy herself when she couldn’t sleep. Michael had hit on her in the bar she went to with Gina and Lenore, the one far from Oliver’s prying eyes. It was Michael that Gina assumed Felicity was entertaining tonight.

 

Oliver tenses. “There was a strange man in your apartment attacking you and you don’t think I need to be alerted?”

 

She licks her lips, “He wasn’t a stranger.”

 

“Then why were you pushing this guy up against a wall?”

 

She tips her eyebrows at Oliver and it takes him a moment to get it.

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah,” she says. “And this is why you really don’t need to get my security alerts on your phone.”

 

A muscle in his face twitches, “You pushed him? How big is this guy?”

 

There is a knock on her front door and she goes to answer it, laughing over her shoulder. “Big enough.”  

 

***

 

It’s strange - Oliver stays long after Diggle leaves. They make easy conversation on her couch and even when she stands and begins to gather up dishes he doesn’t make an exit. Rather, he helps her clean up.

 

It’s disturbingly normal to have him dry as she washes. He reaches around her for another dish towel and she can’t help but notice the pressure of his arm against her lower back.

 

“You alright?” he asks.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she chokes. When he turns his attention to the platter he's drying Felicity lets her eyes close. This is the opposite of what she wanted. She needed one day that wasn’t dominated by Oliver Queen. She needed one normal day in order to hold herself together. Oliver's hands and attention to where they went is the opposite of normal.

 

“Can I ask you something?”

 

There is a shift, a soberness to his voice that knocks Felicity out of her own thoughts.

 

“Yeah,” she leans away from the sink and looks at him. He looks worried and she tips her head.

 

“I ran into Lenore the other day. I was in IT to talk to some of our developers and I saw her. She told me she lost a sister in the Undertaking.”

 

Felicity ducks her head, “She did.”

 

“Does she hate me?”

 

“You?”

 

“My family was involved. My mother is on trial for the death of people like Lenore’s sister.”

 

“No,” Felicity says, “she doesn’t hate you. She knows your mother tried to stop Malcolm Merlyn. Her sister was trampled by looters who raided the grocery store she worked for. It was a terrible accident, but Lenore knows it wasn’t your family’s fault.”

 

He surveys her and Felicity can feel the blush rising in her cheeks. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

 

“For what?”

 

“For standing by me even when I didn’t deserve it,” he wrings the dish towel in his hands, “I left after Tommy’s death because I couldn’t handle it, but I never really thought what that meant for you and Diggle or for my family. I left all of you to face it alone and that wasn’t fair. I’m sorry.”

 

Felicity is surprised by the weight his apology lifts in her chest. The truth is that Oliver is an outlier in her life. He is the exception to every rule she’s ever told herself. She can be mad at him and endlessly loyal in the same breath. She's never going to quit Team Arrow, but she still struggles with what her life has become. The cost is worth it, but she still feels the pinch of it. She didn’t know how badly she needed his apology until he offered it. It helps. 

 

“Thank you,” she doesn’t look at him when she says it because she knows her face will betray her.

  


***

 

Felicity will be the first to admit there are perks for working with Oliver.

 

“Seriously, what the hell is going on Felicity?” Lenore turns as soon as the door to the box closes. Gina is already picking over the trays of greasy, delicious stadium food that sits out waiting for them.

 

Felicity takes a moment to gaze out the the floor to ceiling glass windows overlooking the field. The Starling City Lumineers are playing the Yankees. Oliver couldn’t know this, but New York is where Felicity - or the girl Felicity used to be - is from.  Her father - not Matthew Smoak - but her real father used to take her see games in the summer. They’d sit in the nosebleeds and each nachos.

 

“Baseball is statistics, Lili,” he’d say. "It’s the perfect game.”

 

She pushes the memory away because it hurts to remember. It's silly to remember. The girl with that father doesn’t exist anymore. She is Felicity Smoak. There is no way Oliver was thinking of that other girl the other night at her apartment when he offered his family box seats for the baseball game. He just knew that his friend Felicity Smoak loved baseball and the Starling City Lumineers, but she’d never been to see a game.

 

“Felicity?” Lenore tugs on her arm and looks to Gina for help. “Seriously, when are we going to talk about you and Oliver Queen?”

 

“What?” 

 

“You and Oliver Queen. Months ago you call us freaking out because the dude shows up in your office and then you never mention him again until he shows up your apartment with his security man.”

 

“Who is hot!” Gina pipes in.

 

“And we all have the weirdest night watching baseball and catching Oliver up on every pop culture reference from the past five years cause he was stranded on a freaking island,” Lenore waves her arms, “and the only explanation we get is you work for him?”

 

“Which is a technicality because we all work for him,” Gina settles into one of the overstuffed chairs with a plate of food, “Be honest. You work with him.”

 

“On his ‘security project’” Lenore actually uses air quotes.

 

“And then he disappears for a summer. We get our old friend back, but then he comes back and you mysteriously are fine taking a job as his personal assistant.”

 

“And then he gives you and your best friends access to his family’s very expensive box for the biggest game of the regular season.”

 

“And fills it up with delicious food.” Gina holds up her beer.

 

“It’s an apology,” Felicity swallows. She’s not good at lying. Or rather she’s great at it, but not when she knows it is a lie. The only reason why her life has worked since she was 17 is because she has trained her brain to believe that this is it. She is Felicity Smoak.

 

“For what?”

 

“For me not being able to go on vacation with you guys next week,” she says.

 

It’s true. At the end of every summer the three of them take a vacation to some tropical island where they lay on the beach and check their tablets while hot guys bring them fruity drinks. It is a tradition going back to undergrad, but not this year. Felicity can’t afford to be out of the city. She barely got a weekend away from the lair before Oliver called her in at 4:00 a.m. to uncover the financials of another guy on his list who seemed ready to flee the country.

 

Lenore and Gina share a look.

 

“It’s true, guys. He feels really bad.”

 

“What is it that you’re doing for Oliver Queen that has you working 18 hours a day?” Gina frowns.

 

Lenore sinks down into one of the chairs and wiggles her toes against the windows. They are painted with pink polka dots today, “Don’t get me wrong we’re just happy to get you back over summer. Even if it's, like, a tenth of the normal amount of time we’re used to.”

 

“Thrilled.”

 

Felicity rolls her eyes and drops into the third chair. The Lumineers are warming up on the field. She hooks her legs over the arm of her chair and settles them in Lenore’s lap. The two girls watch her steadily. Baseball is not their thing. Like Lenore’s fashion sensibilities and Gina’s obsession with cooking, they indulge the hobbies and interests of one another with the kind of loyalty you can only expect from best friends.

 

“We’re waiting,” Lenore bounces her legs.

 

“I don’t know what you want to know,” Felicity says. “I told you already. I can’t talk about my work.”

 

“And that also means you can’t talk about Oliver Queen?”

 

“I work with him and we're friends. There’s nothing more to say.”

 

“Bullshit,” Lenore says. She looks to Gina for support.

 

Gina sighs, “Felicity it isn't like you to give up your whole life for a guy.”

 

“That’s not what I’m doing. I believe in the work we’re doing.”

 

“You believe in Oliver Queen’s calendar cause that’s the work you’re doing.”

 

Felicity levels her with a look, but neither girl backs down.

 

“I told you I can’t talk about it.” Her voice wavers.

 

Her two best friends share a long look and Felicity has to remind herself that they are just concerned. They are her family. Her only family. And she begins to understand why Oliver hangs on so tightly to Laurel and Thea. Why Tommy’s death carved out such a big hole. It isn’t just that they were part of his before island life, but they represented a simpler time. A time when life had been straight forward and there were no secrets. That is Lenore and Gina for Felicity. They are her life before Oliver Queen. But the thing is there is another life, one that no one knows. A life that ended at 17. A girl lost in databases and memories.

 

“I know what I’m doing,” Felicity says. “I know you’re worried, but don’t be. I know what I’m doing.”

  
She almost believes it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity has never been ordinary, but she's always imagined an ordinary life for herself after a traumatic childhood. Then she meets Oliver Queen and everything changes.
> 
> Or five times Oliver comes to Felicity's apartment and the time in-between.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally - a few answers and a serious dose of angst. Let me know what you think!

***

It's been a while since Felicity has been so mad. The last time she felt like this she'd been 17 years-old.

Oh, she’s had greater moments of hatred and rage - moments where it felt like the blood in her veins was going to burst - but this right now is pure anger. It flails like an animal pinned in and pounds in her ears as she takes the steps two at a time from the lair up to Verdant.

Her panda flats don’t make the satisfying _thwack_ her heels would, but it's Friday night and Felicity is doing maintenance on her computer systems. She traded her work attire in for jeans, flats, and a sweater hours ago.

The pounding beat of Verdant’s dance music fills her ears as she pushes the door open.

“Where’s Oliver Queen?” Felicity shouts to the bartender over the pulsating music. It’s Roy, the delinquent boyfriend of Oliver’s sister, but Felicity isn’t supposed to know that so she tries to play it cool. She tries to paste on a pretty smile and pretend she’s just a normal girl looking for a billionaire.

“You’re the third girl tonight who’s asked me,” Roy doesn’t even look up from wiping down the bar. “Do yourself a favor and move on.”

But Felicity is angry and what Gina and Lenore would call her ‘loud voice’ is raging. She reaches across the bar and jerks Roy by the collar of his shirt. It takes both of them by surprise, which is the only reason Felicity is able to get any leverage to pull him toward her.

“Where’s Oliver Queen?” 

“What’s your problem lady?” Roy jerks away from her, but Felicity leans over the bar so that her feet aren’t even touching the floor any more.

“My problem is that I’m Oliver’s assistant and it’s Friday night and I need to talk to my boss. Now where is he?”

Now that Roy actually looks her in the face she can see his recognition. He might not know who she is, but he’s seen her around before. He knows she’s serious.

“He went up to the VIP room an hour ago,” Roy points to the second level, “with a group of friends.” He coughs and Felicity gets it. Friends. Friend.

After Isabel Rochev and that horrendous trip to Russia, Felicity gets it. The problem is she doesn’t care if Oliver is horny. They are going to talk. _Now._

Felicity takes a step back from the bar, looks up at the stairs leading to the darkened, private VIP room, and she feels the anger tremble in her limbs. She bites her lip and pinches the bridge of her nose.

_How could he?_

She feels like such a fool. She promised Lenore and Gina that she knew what she was doing when it came to Oliver Queen.

Felicity lets out a laugh and she sees Roy’s eyebrow quirk up. She can feel the tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“No,” she hiccups.

Roy looks up at the closed VIP door and gives a sheepish shrug, “He’s a flake,” the boy offers, “you’re better off forgetting him.”

“Bourbon,” Felicity swallows, “I want two shots of bourbon.”

He hesitates, but the look on Felicity’s face has him reaching for the bottle.

“No, there’s a bottle in the back of the middle right shelf that’s already open. I want that.”

“That’s Mr. Queen’s private reserves.”

“Mr. Queen doesn’t believe in privacy. Not with me.”

The line sounds so ridiculous coming out of her mouth that it actually causes her to laugh again. It’s an angry, bitter laugh, but it does the job and Roy pours Felicity two fingers of bourbon to get her to stop. She doesn’t knock it back. Instead she slips up onto the barstool and sips the amber drink. It burns going down, but it does the job. It quells the panic attack Felicity can feel rising high and hard in her chest.

“Leave it out,” Felicity stops Roy when he picks up the bottle, “We’re going to wait for Mr. Queen to finish with his _friend_.”

***

Felicity is thoroughly drunk by the time Oliver appears an hour later, but the anger is still there. It has slid into crooning bitterness that causes her rambles to take on new heights of awkward. She can feel it licking the under her rib cage.

She’s busy explaining to Roy _(who has turned out to be sweet and loyal, a fact she might tell Oliver if she doesn’t murder him when he emerges from his love den of iniquity)_ how Dr. Who regenerates when they both see movement outside that closed door.

Oliver rebuttons his jacket as he exits the room and right behind him is Laurel.

Of course. It’s always Laurel Lance, Felicity thinks uncharitably.

Beautiful, perfect Laurel Lance. Even though they’ve only met twice Felicity has a pretty good read on who Laurel Lance is.

She is the kind of girl for whom everything comes easily.

That’s not entirely fair. Laurel lost her sister. Her mother is out of the picture. She almost lost her her father to alcoholism. One boyfriend died, came back to life, and then her other boyfriend actually died trying to save her. Felicity can’t imagine what that is like. Well, she can imagine to a point and that is maybe why Felicity feels weird about Laurel Lance.

Even with all the terrible things that have happened to her, Laurel still has everything. She’s gorgeous, always put together, and sophisticated. She endears people’s admiration. They want to protect her and be near her. She is, in short, adored Laurel Lance.

Felicity is not too mature to admit she is jealous of the ease with which Laurel attracts people.

But it isn’t because of Oliver.

Since he came back from the island Felicity has lost more hours than she’d care to admit to analyzing her own heart when it came to Oliver Queen. Yeah, there is definitely an attraction there and there is a connection between them. A friendship. One that is important to her.

But Felicity knows someone like Oliver Queen is not good for her. She doesn’t want someone like Oliver. Someone who has secrets. Who is bullheaded and closed off. Who has scars that go so deep she doesn’t think even he really understands their extent. Felicity doesn’t want a man like that. She doesn’t want a life like that. She wants a story that has a happy ending.

Felicity’s jealousy goes deeper because Laurel Lance and herself are not that different. Both are pretty and smart. Both have advanced degrees. Both live for their work. Both have lost family.

The difference between Felicity and Laurel is that Laurel is all polish and delicacy. She endears people to protect her while Felicity does the opposite. She is awkward and strange. Most of the time her own awkwardness doesn’t bother her, but compared to Laurel Felicity just feels like less. From Felicity's point of view Laurel - despite everything - has a chance at the life Felicity feels slipping through her fingers every day. She has a chance at normal. 

And the sight of Laurel coming out of that room with Oliver right now only strokes Felicity’s anger more.

She knocks back the last of the bourbon in her glass and slides it over to Roy.

“Thanks,” she says.

“Good luck,” Roy says.

Felicity knows Roy thinks this is a jealous lover spat, but she lets him think that. It’s just one more in a line of a thousand misconceptions Felicity has allowed people to make about her for Oliver Queen’s sake. She threads through the crowd to stand at the bottom of the stairs as Oliver and Laurel descend.

“Oliver,” Felicity tries very hard to make her voice steady, but Oliver hears the hitch in her throat even over the music. Laurel is saying something to him, but Oliver stops her with a hand on her elbow.

Because even drunk Felicity is more observant than most people are sober she notices the smudge of mascara that Laurel tried to wipe away. It lingers on her cheek and Felicity feels a pang of regret. The woman had been crying and Felicity imagines what went on in that room were conversations about Tommy rather than hands skimming off clothes.

“Oliver, we need to talk.” Felicity recites the line she practiced for Roy over the past hour. “Alone.”

“Alright.”

Felicity can feel his eyes on her and she turns away because she is afraid she might lose it right there on the dance floor. He bids goodbye to Laurel and Felicity feels the other woman brush past her. Felicity takes a step toward the back of the bar where the door to the lair is half hidden behind a corner, but she bumps into a dancer and starts to tip sideways. She might be more drunk than she realized. Instead of falling she hits a wall of muscle. Oliver is right behind her and his hand finds her hip. He guides them through the crowd and when they get past the gyrating crowd Felicity shakes him loose.

For the first time since she’s known him Felicity doesn’t want Oliver Queen touching her.

To his credit, Oliver says nothing even after the door to the lair slams shut. Felicity’s flats fail her again and don't make a satisfactory stomp down the stairs to echo her feelings. Her work station is littered with cold take out Chinese and a tech magazine she had planned on reading tonight while her computers ran their diagnostics. What is called up on her largest monitor causes Oliver to swear before she can even turn around to look at him.

“Let me explain,” he says quickly.

“I’m actually embarrassed it took me months to even find it,” Felicity barks, “You were smart and used one of the CPUs I don’t use very often to run your searches. But how did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

“I wasn’t trying to hide it from you.”

“Then you’re a bigger idiot than I thought.”

She can see the tension in his jaw, “I’m only trying to help you Felicity.”

“I don’t need your help,” she reels. There it is - the anger - spiking its way back up and she doesn’t even try to reign it in. “I told you don’t go looking. Don’t try to dig something up because there is nothing there. It was a car accident. My parents died. It was years ago. I don’t need your help. I’m fine.”

It’s Oliver’s turn to get mad. Felicity has a mental checklist for Oliver Queen’s mad face. It’s on a sliding scale. Each step along it means he is closer to pure rage. Now it’s all there. The flared nostrils. Tight muscles in his neck. Fisted hands. But it’s the way his mask slips away that catches her by surprise. There is something raw in his eyes. Gone is the controlled Oliver she’s used to and in its place is a new Oliver Queen, hurt and angry.

“Stop lying to me." His voice is quiet.

She hugs her stomach. The alcohol has turned bitter. “I’m not lying.”

“Matthew and Diana Smoak weren’t your parents,” Oliver crosses to her and leans in so she can feel the heat of him through her clothes. “I used your hacking software to pull the case file. The whole thing was redacted. Then I started searching databases for information on Felicity Smoak and until two years before the accident Felicity Smoak didn’t exist. I can’t find her anywhere.”

“That’s not true. I was born in upstate New York. I was homeschooled. My parents owned a maple syrup farm. There is a birth certificate and land records to prove it.”

“Yeah, there’s an electronic trail, but if you actually go there no one remembers you. No one remembers a little blonde girl whose family farmed maple syrup. There’s no paper copy of your birth certificate or deed to the land at city records.There are no newspaper ads promoting the family farm. If you go to house there isn’t even a damn sign. It’s just an abandoned, falling apart wreak. ”

“How would you even know that?” Felicity pushes against his chest and Oliver falls back a step. “You haven’t left Starling City without me since Dig and I hauled your ass back from that island.”

And then it clicks into place - that weekend back in August when Oliver declared their team take a vacation. He and Dig came over to her house and watched baseball and afterwards he stayed to clean up. He stayed to apologize for abandoning her and then he insisted that she take the next day off and go to the Starling City Lumineers game. He put her and her friends up in his luxury box and filled it with delicious food. He told her to have a good time and not worry.

Just so he could make a trip out of town that she wouldn’t notice.

“You lied to me,” she stumbles back. “You went behind my back and poked around in my life when I explicitly told you not to.”

“Remember when I convinced you to come back after we found Walter,” Oliver says, “you told me you didn’t like mysteries and that’s why you stayed. I’m the same way Felicity. I don’t like being lied to.”

“You. don’t. get. all. of. me.” 

It overwhelms her to think of all the parts of herself she’s given over to Oliver Queen. Her career. Her time. Her heart. Her honesty. She feels the panic that she tried to dull with bourbon and the anger pushing their way to the surface. Whatever control she has left is very quickly slipping away and in its place fear pulls on her chest.

Oliver paces, “How can you expect us to work together like we do and keep secrets?”

“All you are is one giant secret Oliver,” Felicity shouts. Her voice cracks and she has to grope for the desk to hold herself up. Oliver stops pacing and watches her. “Dig and I have put our lives on hold for you because we believe in what you’re doing. We want to be a part of it, but that doesn’t mean you possess us like you would some weapon. You haven’t earned the right to dig around in my life. It’s my life and those are my secrets. Until you I was doing fine carrying them on my own.”

“And now?”

The soft way he says it betrays the final bits of control Felicity has. And now…? Now she doesn’t know and that scares her more than anything.

She slips into her desk chair and hides her face in her hands. The tears become sobs and she feels that clutching claw in her lungs as she gulps for air. Her heart beats in her chest and everything around her is fading away. Her vision blurs and she can feel Oliver’s hands on her, but she can’t really see him. Not really.

All she can see is the flashes of memory: hiding under that blanket in her parent’s apartment in New York when the men broke in. She can feel the scratchy wool against her cheek and hear their boots breaking down the door. She can hear her mother’s scream and her father’s shouts. She’s hidden beneath her bed just like her father told her to do. It’s the first time in her life she’s thankful for being so small for her age. She fits in the tight wedge under the bed and with the blanket pulled over her she’s nothing but a shadow to anyone who might come looking for her.

“Felicity,” a voice calls her out of that dark place. “Felicity.”

“Oliver.”

She grips his arms and tries to push away the parts of the memory that come next: the part where the apartment became quiet and Felicity crawled out of her hiding place to find her mother and father dead in their kitchen, their blood pooling on the tile between them, and the terror permanently etched on their faces.

They died afraid. Felicity promised herself she’d live a normal life because she didn't want to die like that. She didn't want to live or die afraid. She would be ordinary and happy. And until she met Oliver Queen she kept that promise.

“Felicity,” Oliver pulls her up and she leans into him, “I’m going to take you home.”

  
Felicity is too tired to resist. She lets him cradle her head in his shoulder and follows him to his car. She lets him rub large circles on her back. She lets herself fall into the rhythm of his breathing as they drive through Starling City. That is the last thought she has before she falls asleep. Even the air in her lungs has given itself over to Oliver Queen.

***

The third time Oliver Queen comes to her apartment Felicity barely remembers it. She’s too exhausted, but she does remember him pulling back her covers and slipping her panda flats off. She remembers him taking off that suit coat and settling down in the chair across from her bed.

“Sleep,” is all he says, and she does.

The third time Oliver Queen comes to Felicity’s apartment she dreams of Diana Smoak.

_Diana Smoak is the reason Felicity dyes her hair blond. Her natural color is something muddied, but Diana had beautiful blond hair. She was a blue blood with family history stretching back into the archives of American history. Felicity was the daughter of a dead counterfeiter and his Jewish wife. Diana had a grace that Felicity tried to mimic at 15 when she came to live with Diana and Matthew. She dyed her hair blonde because if she was going to pass as Diana’s daughter then there needed to be a resemblance between them and it certainly wasn’t going to be in Felicity’s poise. Hair dye came pre-packed in a box; it was easier._

_“You love him,” Diana said in Felicity’s dream. They sat at the breakfast table on a sunny morning. Felicity remembers so many mornings like this. They always lingered over tea and Diana always called Felicity out on the things she wasn’t saying._

_“I do.”_

_“He’s not the kind of man you said you wanted.” Diana smiles, “He’s complicated.”_

_“I know,” Felicity groans and slump down in her chair._

_Diana laughs. “I think he’s good for you. He opens you up in a way I haven’t seen since you came to live with us.”_

_“He’s stubborn and pig headed.”_

_“Felicity, that’s not fair,” Diana chastises, “He’s like you. He’s a survivor.”_

_“He goes through women.”_

_“You hide. We all have our coping mechanisms in life.”_

_Felicity feels her eyes begin to water, “I don’t want this. Doesn’t it matter what I want?”_

_Diana sits forward and takes Felicity’s hand and even in her dream Felicity gasps because she knows she shouldn’t be able to feel Diana Smoak’s hand. She has missed the weight and instant calm it brings her._

_“It only matters what you want,” Diana says, “but you have to admit to yourself that a part of you wants Oliver Queen.”_

_“He has no happy stories,” Felicity mutters, “I want a happy story. For once I want the ending to turn out happy. I’m tired of people I love dying. First my parents and then you and Matthew. I can’t take more death. I’m not strong enough.”_

_“Then why did you join Oliver’s team? Why go back after they found Walter? Why go get him on that island?” Diana argues, “you say you’re not strong enough, that you want something else, but your actions say something else.”_

_“I don’t like mysteries,” Felicity whispers. “They’ve cost me everything.”_

_Diana smiles sadly, “Is it possible that what you want has changed? What makes you happy is working with Oliver and not that ordinary life you always imagined.”_

_In her dream Felicity starts to cry, “He went behind my back. He lied to me. He didn’t...he didn’t…”_

_“Respect you?” Diana finishes for her._

_“Yeah. It feels like he just sees me as another person who needs his protection. I don’t want to be just another woman he saves. I’m fine.”_

_Diana scrunches her nose, “You’re not fine and you haven’t been for a while.”_

_“But it isn’t any of his business.”_

_“You guys are still finding your way to each other. But in the mean time you let him be your friend.”_

_Felicity squeezes the hand holding Diana’s. “I miss you,” she confesses, “I miss you more than I miss my own mother. What does that say about me?”_

_Diana sits up, “It says that you’ve led a complicated life and to go easy on yourself. You don’t always have to have the right reaction to everything. But that’s a conversation that can wait for another day because it’s time to wake up.”_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity has never been ordinary, but she's always imagined an ordinary life for herself after a traumatic childhood. Then she meets Oliver Queen and everything changes.
> 
> Or five times Oliver comes to Felicity's apartment and the time in-between.

***

When Felicity wakes up she hears Oliver swear from her kitchen. This is followed by a loud crash and more swearing. She can't help it - she smiles into the pillow. She soaks in the sounds of something as straight forward as Oliver wrestling with her kitchen. The man is an expert at a bow and arrow, but her coffee pot has clearly overpowered him.

There is more banging and Felicity tries to map out his movements: the fridge door opening and closing, ingredients being set on the counter, rummaging through drawers, muttering another swear word quietly, more banging of cabinets, silence, and then the beating of a whisk against a bowl. Felicity likes the movie she’s just created in her head. She likes it more than she probably should. She rolls onto her back, stares at the ceiling, and sighs. She hopes Oliver is making pancakes. Pancakes are her favorite breakfast food. Diana made the best pancakes.

It's the kind of stray thought that sneaks in when Felicity's mind is the most relaxed. Times like now when she's either entering or exiting sleep are the only times she lets herself remember. She doles them out like rations. It hurts too much to dwell too long on her past. But this morning the memories are pressed on the forefront of her mind like a stamp.

 _It's time to wake up_ , Diana told her.

Felicity is rational person. She knows that the Diana in her dream was not the actual woman. Diana was dead. Cold. Buried. Just like Matthew and Felicity's mother and father. But still when dream-Diana grabbed Felicity's hand it felt real.

Felicity remembers holding that hand tight in the police station. Diana had strong hands from handling a gun, but her skin was always smooth and soft thanks to the lotion she used. It came in a glass bottle with a chrome lid. She can still perfectly recall the vanilla bean scent.

She doesn't know why the dream felt so real. She knows it was just the product of her mind, but it hadn't felt like her own consciousness wrestling with itself. Rather, it felt like for a moment Felicity had ceased to be completely alone; for a moment Diana was alive again and Felicity could talk to her. For once someone knew all the parts of her. The knowledge that that will never happen again hurts in the hollow space beneath her heart.

Felicity stares at the ceiling for a long time listening to Oliver grope his way around her kitchen. She doesn't want to leave the cocoon of her bed; she knows Oliver is right outside her door with breakfast and questions. But after the fifth bang she begins to seriously worry about her kitchen and decides there is no more putting off the inevitable.

On her way to the bathroom Felicity notices the stuffed chair across from her bed. Oliver's suit jacket is crumpled in a pathetic pillow and she feels a pang in her heart. She knows he's slept in worse places, but the fact that he stayed with her through the night reminds her of Diana's dictate - _let Oliver Queen be your friend_.

It feels good to shower. Her body is worn out from her panic attack and under the water Felicity imagines her fears washing away, swirling around the drain, and disappearing. As she towels off she practices the speech she will give Oliver. She twists her hair up in a messy bun and puts on leggings and an old MIT sweatshirt. Once she slips her glasses back on she feels like herself and gives herself a shaky smile in the mirror.

She can do this.

Oliver must have heard her get up and start the shower because he's set her tiny kitchen table with two plates. He jumps up when she opens her bedroom door and Felicity can't help but smile.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"I'm going to need to buy you a new kitchen," he shuffles his feet, which are bare. Felicity can feel her heart fluttering again despite itself.

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad."

"I think I broke your espresso machine."

"Then you're definitely a dead man."

They both laugh a nervous laugh and it breaks the tension between them. Oliver pulls out a chair and gestures for her to sit down. Felicity complies and says nothing as he brings a plate of pancakes and a bowl of whipped cream to the table. She swipes a finger of the whipped cream and makes a noise of appreciation.

"You made this from scratch?"

"Raisa taught me years ago. It's really simple," Oliver pours them both coffee. "Surprised?"

"No," she piles pancakes onto her plate, "I'm amused that every one of these pancakes are burnt to a crisp, but you made whipped cream from scratch. The idle rich really do have the strangest skill sets."

"Hey, be grateful," Oliver steals the syrup from her, "I sliced strawberries for you."

"I am. Pancakes are my second favorite thing to use whipped cream and strawberries for," Felicity mutters and as soon as it's out she freezes horrified by what she just admitted.

Oliver chuckles and puts a heaping bite of pancake into his mouth with a satisfied grin.

Felicity exhales and shakes her head. She really can't explain the way her brain thinks of the worst way to say things when she is around Oliver, but she's grateful that he lightly skips over it.

"So do you want to start or should I?" he says between bites.

She's curious what he might have to say and points to him as she sips her coffee.

"Alright." He scoots forward and leans his elbows on the table. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone behind your back. I shouldn't have lied to you. We're friends and that isn't what friends do."

"Thank you," she says quietly.

He presses on, "But I'm not sorry for not listening to you. I knew something was off about your explanation and when you said you were fine..." he searches for the right words, "I knew you were just trying to be strong. There's a story you've been keeping from us, from me, and I know I don't have any right to say this because I've got secrets too, but I don't like the idea of you keeping secrets from me."

"You know you're being a hypocrite, right?"

He nods, "Trust me I'm well aware. I spent all night trying to find some excuse for how I feel."

Felicity studies her coffee mug. It was a gag gift from Lenore and Gina when Felicity started working as Oliver's assistant. It said 'Don't let the Muggles get you down.' It was their way of reminding her that all the fancy snot-nosed people who don't look her in the face and assume she's nothing more than Oliver's weekend toy - they're nothing more than boring Muggles with no imagination.

For all his money and all his faults Felicity can say that Oliver truly saw her - saw her as well as anyone could - from the beginning.

"You think it’s fine for you to have secrets, but wrong for me to have them because you want to protect me," she says.

"I do want to protect you."

Her head snaps up, "I'm not some girl for you to rescue."

"I know."

Felicity tries to pick her words very carefully, "I can also appreciate that you want to protect me. I really do appreciate it."

"But you're not going to tell me the truth are you?"

She pushes her glasses up and sighs. “I’m going to tell you part of the truth. I meant it last night when I said you don’t get all of me. But you’re right. I’m not fine. I’ve been having panic attacks ever since the Undertaking.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because your mother is on trial for her life. You’re trying to save Queen Consolidated and the city. Laurel was trying to trap the vigilante and then Sara came back from the dead and then we went to Russia. It’s been a busy fall.” She forces a laugh.

But Oliver just shakes his head, “I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t think it would register high on the list of Oliver Queen’s problems.” 

He looks hurt and a voice in the back of her head is surprised. She didn’t realize she had the ability to hurt Oliver Queen.

She takes a deep breath and presses on. “When the quake was happening I was stuck in the lair. I felt the walls start to crumble and I didn’t know if I would make it out alive. I was trapped and helpless. It’s a feeling I’ve had before.”

He shifts toward her. The table is between them, but she can feel Oliver straining to get as close to her as he can. Still, he doesn’t touch her. Felicity can hear the distance in her own voice. It's been a very long time since she told this story, but she recognizes the way she shuts down, grows removed from herself. It’s what happens when she allows herself to remember. He must hear that in her voice and see it in her posture and in her eyes. He knows better than to try to touch her right now.

“You were right,” Felicity starts slowly. “Diana and Matthew Smoak weren’t my parents or at least not my biological parents. They were federal marshals with WITSEC.”

Oliver’s eyes narrow. “WITSEC?”

Felicity licks her lips. “Witness protection program. Diana and Matthew were both marshals and when I was fifteen I was assigned to their protection.

“You were in the witness protection program?” His voice cracks and Felicity can’t help but smile a little bit. She’s managed to surprise Oliver Queen.

“Technically I still am. The case was never solved.”

“So Felicity Smoak isn’t even your real name?”

She looks at him over the top of her glasses incredulously.

“I mean...it’s your name. Or is your fake name,” he runs a hand through his hair and scoots back a bit, “I don’t even know your real name?”

Felicity reaches across the table and grabs his hand. “Felicity Smoak is my real name. It’s a real to me as Oliver Queen is to you.”

He frowns and studies their hands entwined in the middle of the table.

“What happened to you?”

She pulls back but he grips her harder. Felicity sighs. “I’m not going to talk about the case. It’s a cold case. None of that matters anymore. What matters is that you know you’re not the only one with a secret identity.”

“But you’ve stayed Felicity Smoak. You haven’t gone back to your old life which means either the threat is still out there or…,” he trails off.

“Or there is no old life to go back to,” she finishes for him.

“Diana and Matthew Smoak were assigned to protect you.”

Felicity nods, “But they went beyond that. Usually WITSEC deals with adults so its easy to create a new identity, but I was a minor and the case was...unending. It looked like I was going to spend my entire teenage years in a safe house. But Diana and Matthew offered me another choice. They quit WITSEC, left their lives behind, and adopted me.”

“How did they explain it to their families?”

“They didn't. Functionally they entered the program with me so I wouldn't be alone. 

“But the story of the maple farm in upstate New York?”

“Cover from WITSEC. Publicly I’ve always been their daughter. They gave up their whole lives so I could have one. The two years I spent with them were the two happiest years of my life.”

“And then their car with the three of you in it goes off a bridge in the middle of a New England winter.” Oliver says. Felicity nods.

She imagines he’s read all the newspaper articles on the accident and pieced together the night in his mind. But whatever Oliver thinks it was like, she knows it had been so much worse. It had been the coldest night of winter and their car went into a river. Felicity can remember the way the cab got smaller and smaller as the water leaked in. She remembers Matthew’s frustrated shouts when he couldn’t get the doors open. And she remembers the triumphant cry they all made when he managed to shatter the glass. He pushed Felicity out first and then Diana. Felicity did what they told her to do. She swam straight for the surface and she remembers how the air ripped through her lungs when she came to the top.

Don’t look for us, they said. Get out of the water before you freeze. We’re right behind you, they said. But when Felicity pulled her waterlogged self onto the muddy river bank she looked back at only a serene river. There hadn’t been a sound except for the distant call of a bird.

Felicity had screamed. She ran back into the river, but her limbs gave out and she fell onto her knees. The rescuers found her sitting in the water, unwilling to get out but unable to save her family. Later, investigators would tell her they found Diana outside the car, frozen and dead, and Matthew still inside the cab. He’d sacrificed himself for them. Both of them had sacrificed themselves for her.

It isn’t until Oliver says her name that Felicity realizes that she’s said all of this aloud. The words just fall out and she's shaking. Oliver comes around to her side of the table. Gently he pulls her so she’s standing and he wraps his arms around her. She leans into him and lets herself bury her face in his chest. Neither says anything and Felicity loses track of how long they stand there leaning into one another.

***

  
At some point Oliver and Felicity settle on her couch because after admitting the biggest secret of your life what do you do?

Watch Fringe of course.

“You know, these people’s lives make mine and yours look positively sane,” she retorts.

Oliver - who Felicity discovers is jumpy about all things monsters ( _You fight madmen_ , she argues. He counters with, _yeah and I can hit them_.) - Oliver says nothing. At some point he pops popcorn and doesn’t complain when she insists on her own bowl with extra butter. Even as the sun begins to set he makes no move to leave.

After each episode he says, “Another one?”

***

“So do Lenore and Gina know?”

“No. We didn’t meet until college. All they know is that my parents died in a car crash.”

***

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

“No.”

“It never crossed your mind?”

“Oliver, there are days _I_ forget that I used to have a name other than Felicity Smoak. It wasn’t a conscious decision to keep it from you. Rather just what I’ve been doing for ten years.”

***

“And you’re not going to tell me about the case? What you witnessed that ruined your life?”

“I told you it doesn’t matter. Even with my testimony the government could never build a strong enough case to bring charges. All that matters is that the guilty people never know that that girl became Felicity Smoak.”

***

“What about the car accident? Surely the investigators followed up to see if it was connected to your case.”

She holds up a finger, “Remember the world doesn’t know I’m anything but Matthew and Diana’s daughter. It’s hard to follow up on an angle you don’t know exists.”

“Surely the marshals at WITSEC followed up?”

“They agreed with the local investigators. The roads were slick, Matthew hit an icy patch, over corrected, and we went over the side of the bridge.”

“But the reports were redacted. When I hacked into local police records there was almost nothing there.”

“Is it wrong that I’m enormously proud to hear you say the words ‘When I hacked into local police records…?'”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Yes I am.”

“So why redact the report unless there is a connection to something bigger?”

Felicity shrugs and Oliver jumps up. He paces her living room and she can practically see the frustration rippling off him.

“When I told you the report was redacted you were surprised,” he stops and looks at her.

“I never saw the final report,” she admits.

“Felicity, you can hack into the FBI. Are you telling me you’ve never set out to investigate what actually happened?”

“Oliver I don’t need to investigate what happened. I know what happened.”

He waits.

“Me. I happened.”

“Felicity.”

“You can’t tell me that you haven’t thought that all the bad stuff in your life, all the loss, when it's piled up together points to one inevitable conclusion. It isn’t circumstance or fate. It’s just you.”

“But most of the time you’re so happy. How are you not all," he pauses, "broody?" 

She smiles, “Because after they died I made a promise to myself. I was going to try to be normal even if I’m not. I decided that the best way to honor Diana and Matthew and the other people I’ve lost was to really live. So I try to make my life count. I find reasons to laugh. I spend time with my friends. I fix things. I watch too much television and buy things that make me happy. And thanks to you now I’m helping the city I work in. Working with you helps make my life matter and that makes me happy.”

Oliver stares at her for a long time and Felicity squirms under his gaze.

“What are you doing?” she demands.

Oliver tips his head and smiles, “I’m trying to figure out how I’ve never realized how brave you are.”

***

After the popcorn and the bottle of wine they opened is gone Oliver falls asleep on the couch. Felicity is almost asleep herself and she indulges herself. She doesn’t wake him up to send him home. She doesn’t crawl into her own bed. Instead, she pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and curls into his side. In his sleep, Oliver shifts and she tucks herself between his arm and rib cage. She pulls the blanket over them and lets herself not think for once about the implications of today.

He knows.

She’s not alone anymore.

And that changes everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think? Tell me. You know you wanna.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity has never been ordinary, but she's always imagined an ordinary life for herself after a traumatic childhood. Then she meets Oliver Queen and everything changes.
> 
> Or five times Oliver comes to Felicity's apartment and the time in-between.

***

“I think training would help.”

Felicity jumps and sends her coffee cup scattering across the concrete floor.

Oliver stands behind her shirtless - of course - and dripping with sweat.

“Can you be less creepy?” she hisses and reaches for the desk to steady herself.

Oliver smirks and picks up the coffee cup, which rolled to his feet. Luckily there had been nothing in it. These days any coffee around Felicity was immediately ingested.

“Training. It’d help.” 

“Help with what?”

“With the panic attacks.”

Her head whips around. Diggle is on the far side of the lair talking low into his cell phone to what had to be Lyla. He ducks his head and smiles. Definitely Lyla. 

It’s unlikely that Diggle heard Oliver, but still she glares at him.

It's been a week since Felicity told Oliver about her past and they havn’t talked about it. Rather, he woke her up the next morning with a touch to the shoulder and an apology. He needed to go because if he didn’t show up at either the mansion or the office two days in a row his family would worry. Other than goodbye and a promise to check in later, Oliver hadn’t mentioned her revelations and she followed his lead.

She continued to follow his lead. Nothing changed between them except she felt his gaze linger longer on her than before. Felicity understood. Now that he knew the truth Oliver was waiting to see if he could glimpse some hint of the girl she’d once been. She'd done the same thing once she discovered he was the Hood. She'd studied him to figure how she hadn't noticed that he wore a mask every moment of every day.  

Felicity knows he is looking at her and trying to decide who Felicity Smoak really is. She feels the questions in his gaze, but she doesn't meet it. She doesn’t blame Oliver for wondering, but she isn’t going to indulge him. It's worthless to try to find the girl she'd once been in the woman she is today. Felicity knows because she has spent years looking.The truth was that little girl disappeared the night her parents died.

But other than Oliver’s lingering gaze nothing has changed between them. Felicity spent her week combing over the evidence for Moira’s trial, trying to find something that might prove her claim that Malcolm Merlin threatened her family. It may be the truth, but proving it court is another matter entirely. The evidence had to be out there. She just needed to turn over the right rock, expose the right information, and they’d finally catch a break.

They had to catch a break.

Between Queen Consolidated, Isabel Rochev, and his mother’s trial, Felicity didn’t understand how Oliver even had time to worry about her. Ever since he came back from the island Felicity kept wondering when they would catch a break, when he would get an easy win. She can’t imagine how many different directions he’s pulled in every day -- how many lies and masks he had to carry. She tells herself her past is the least of Oliver's concerns, and she wishes she believed he agreed. 

A foolish part of her hoped they could go back to the way things used to be when she was just the ordinary IT girl he plucked from the bowels of Queen Consolidated. It'd been so much easier then to keep her life compartmentalized, and Felicity liked her life compartmentalized. It was easier to be happy. Really it was the only way for her to be happy.

“I thought we weren’t talking about that,” she says through gritted teeth, “and certainly not now.”

Oliver’s gaze shifts to Diggle, whose back is turned away from them. He leans a hand on Felicity’s desk and bends down until his head is very close to her own.

“I wouldn’t have to if you hadn't avoided me all week,” he says.

“We spend almost every waking hour together. I hardly call that avoiding.”

“You’re always on the phone when I come into the office, gone before I leave, and here only when Diggle is around to keep us from really talking. You’re avoiding.”

Felicity shakes her head and tries pivoting, “Diggle has already tried to train me. It didn’t take.”

“Panic attacks can be linked to a loss of control,” Oliver meets her eye. “Training will help you learn to regulate your body and keep your emotions at equilibrium.”

“You want me to punch my panic attacks away?”

This earns her half a smile from him, “Something like that.”

She can feel Oliver’s eyes on her. It turns her skin hot and it’s enough to convince her training with him would be a terrible idea.

“No,” Felicity says. “I don’t think so.

He didn’t expect her to say no because he pulls away and frowns. “Why not?”

Felicity can’t exactly tell him the whole truth. The first reason is simple - she didn’t want to be that close to him. Training means touching and sweat and it just bothers Felicity in a way she doesn’t like to be bothered by Oliver Queen. It will spur thoughts that'll leave her feeling clouded and unsure about what she wants. She already feels more exposed to him than she'd prefer. She let Oliver access a part of her even her closest friends don't know. The only reason she opened that door was because she knew he might be the one person in her life who really understood and for him, she knows she fills the same role.

But the second reason she doesn’t want to train with him is the fact that even though they are very much the same they are completely different at the same time.

The truth is Felicity isn’t interested in being a hero.

***

“No,” Felicity shakes her head, “How many times do I have to say no before you hear me?”

“Just tell me why and I’ll let it drop.” Oliver insists. He leans a hip on her desk and Felicity surveys him from her chair. He smiles his I’m-a-billionaire-playboy-and-I-know-I’m-adorable smile at her, but it doesn’t work. It’s never really worked on her.

“If you insist I’ll try it again with Diggle, but I’m not training with you.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“It’s the only reason you’re going to get,” Felicity sighs, “why won’t you let this go?”

She sees his Adam’s apple tighten and he ducks his head. “I need you safe.”

She scoots forward in her chair and puts her hand over his where it rests on her desk clutched in a tight fist.

“Hey,” she says softly, “I’m safe. Nothing has changed. I’m still the same Felicity Smoak, your Girl Friday.”

They both know it's a lie. She’s not safe as long as she works with him, but gone is Oliver’s imagined reality that she would be safe without him. Now she seems surrounded by danger on all sides, her past and her present pressing in on her, and while she appreciates his concern she doesn’t know how to explain to him that she doesn’t need saving.

“Just tell me why you won’t let me teach you how to fight.”

 _Because I don’t want to become a killer_.

It’s a treacherous thought that she doesn’t dare admit to Oliver. He carries enough guilt in the wake of Tommy’s death. There is no way she is going tell him that while they both have secret identities she doesn’t want to end up like him. She’s clinging desperately to the happiness she’s worked so hard to earn; the panic attacks scare her because they dredge up so much anger. She’s afraid that if she follows Oliver down that path she will never come back.

“You’ve got enough going on,” Felicity musters a light tone, “saving the company and this city. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I wish you’d stop acting as if your problems aren’t important.”

 _They are important, but they can’t be important to you. I can’t handle being that important to you._ It’s another one of those treacherous thoughts and it startles Felicity because it's an admission she doesn’t want.

“Felicity has a problem?” Lenore’s voice cuts through Felicity’s muddled thoughts. She and Gina stand on the other side of Felicity’s desk with raised eyebrows. Felicity tries to retract her hand from Oliver’s subtly, but she knows her best friends see it. Oliver stands and flashes his patented playboy smile at them, but it doesn't work on them either. Felicity smiles with affection at her best friends, who are now glaring at Oliver.

“She didn’t have any problems until she started helping you out with your _special_ projects,” Gina says.

Felicity makes a strangled noise in her throat. She knows Oliver won’t have her friends fired, but they can’t talk to him like that.

“Uh, why don’t we go to lunch?” Felicity says too loudly. She picks up her coat, but Oliver takes it from her and holds it open for her. With an arched eyebrow she lets him slip her coat onto her shoulders. She eyes him, but he’s still got that damn playboy smile pasted on.

  
“Like I said,” he looks at her as she turns toward him, “let me know how I can help.”

And then he looks at Lenore and Gina, “If she tells you she has to get back to the office she’s lying. Make sure she eats a whole meal sitting down. She never does that these days.”

And then he is gone and Felicity hurries past her friends, heels clicking on the stone floor, as she flees to the elevator. But escape is not that easy and her friends hurry after her. As soon as the elevator doors close they turn on her with expectant eyes.

“What?” she blusters.

“You were holding his hand.”

“He helped you put on your coat.”

“We’re friends,” she says lamely.

“You said you had it under control.”

“You said you knew what you were doing.”

“I do,” Felicity mutters. She punches the button to make the elevator move.

“Felicity,” Gina touches Felicity’s arm, “we’re worried about you.” She looks to Lenore for confirmation and the other girl nods her head.

Felicity steps back, “There’s nothing to be worried about.”

“Ever since you met Oliver Queen you’ve changed,” Lenore says.

“You’ve gotten secretive. You never used to be like that before.”

Felicity looks down. It feels like trying breath underwater. Before Oliver Queen Felicity could pretend she didn’t have secrets. She’d buried them so far that it had been easy to act normal. She could geek out on new tech and shop with Lenore and Gina. She could date and sleep soundly at night. But since Oliver it felt like she was trying to hold air. It was inevitable probably - keeping his secrets brought her’s to the surface.

“We just miss our friend,” Gina says softly.

“You know you can tell us anything,” Lenore adds.

But she can’t and Felicity is finding that living with that is harder than she’d care to admit. 

***

In a vain attempt to restore normalcy to Team Arrow, Felicity insists they celebrate before disbanding for the holidays.

She does her best to make the lair festive. She spends too much time on construction paper hand turkeys and strings them up around her monitors. She spears a few baby pumpkins with Oliver’s arrows and creates a sort of morbid center piece on the medical table, which she cleans with bleach before laying out the meal.

The food is all Gina, who Felicity recruited to cook using Oliver as an excuse.

“He’s got some fancy party he wants to throw before Thanksgiving and gave no thought to how it’s actually going to happen. So it’s up to me to come up with food. And of course he wants it all to be homemade as if I can just whip something up in my copious amounts of free time,” Felicity laid the annoyance on thick over the phone to her best friend.

She cringed at her own tone, but justified the ruse by reminding herself that Oliver changed her job without asking her. Certainly she can throw him under the bus to get a decent meal out of her best friend.

“He does realize you don’t exist for his every whim and impulse, right?” Gina says.

“I mean the guy is a billionaire who spent five years alone on an island. Normal doesn’t really apply to him, does it?” Felicity laughs, but it's hollow. She hates lying to Gina.

“Do you really think he was alone for five years?” Gina muses, “I mean if I didn’t have any human contact for five years I’d go insane. How do you think he did it?”

“Who said he was sane?” Felicity replies.

In the end, Oliver unknowingly pays Gina handsomely for her last minute feast and Felicity accomplishes pulling together something almost homey despite the weapons and concrete. She’s thrilled. It’s a small, but vital step to getting back to something resembling normal for all of them.

Oliver is less than happy.

“My lair looks like something out of a Hallmark channel holiday movie,” he shouts.

“You do realize you just referred to it as _your_ lair with a straight face” Felicity pushes him to sit down at the table and is rewarded with a snort from Diggle.

Oliver complies, but barely. He broods while Felicity gets Diggle to open the wine and she unwraps the stuffing. But whatever foul mood he’s in doesn’t stop him from reaching for a roll, but Felicity is fast and slaps his hand away.

“Not until we toast and goaroundandsaywhatwe’rethankfulfor.”

She hurries the last part out as if he won’t notice. Instead she’s rewarded with a pointed look that would wilt less determined women.

“I’ll start,” Diggle offers and raises his glass. Felicity does the same and while Oliver refuses at least he picks his up and drinks from it. Diggle cocks an eyebrow at him and he lowers the glass from his lips. Felicity smiles triumphantly.

Diggle pauses and looks at each of them, “I’m thankful that you guys had my back when I needed it.”

Felicity reaches across the medical table and squeezes Dig’s hand and they all drink. “Oliver, you’re turn.”

He’s looking at her and she can feel the hairs on the back of her neck rise. His eyes have that narrowed in focus that she been shifting under for weeks now. Ever since her panic attack she’s felt the most exposed she's been since Matthew & Diana died. She looks up at him and is met with a softness that she didn’t expect. It is uncomfortable and she suddenly becomes fascinated with the bottom of her cup.

“I’m grateful for a few less secrets to carry alone,” he says, never taking his eyes off her.

“Here here,” Dig raises his glass and drinks. She wonders if he can see the current playing between her and Oliver, wonders what he thinks it’s really about.

“Felicity I think it’s your turn,” Oliver cocks an eyebrow.

She straightens up, gives her pony tail a shake, and holds her glass up high.

“I’m grateful for friends I can be myself with.”

***

Afterwards Oliver lingers as Felicity packs up the leftovers. 

“I know what you’re doing,” he hovers around the table. Diggle is gone, a pecan pie tucked under his arm and a promise to enjoy the day with his nephew.

She doesn't look at him. “If you’re going to stand there, help." 

Oliver finishes carving the turkey and Felicity wonders if it’s something he learned from his dad or if the island required him to learn how to eat down to the bone of an animal.

“You’re staring,” he says.

“You stare too. All the time now,” she snaps. “I’ll do you a favor - there isn’t any secret to me. I’m Felicity Smoak. I’m not a puzzle to solve or problem that needs fixing.”

He stops and turns toward her, his brow furrowed. “Is that what you think you are to me? A problem?”

“That’s why you want to train me, right? Cause I need to be more like you. Stronger. A survivor.”

“You’re already both of those things.”

“Then why do you insist on me learning to fight?”

“Because what we do is dangerous.”

She shakes her head, “We’ve been at this for a year and you’ve never insisted I train until now.”

He stalks over to her, hands fisted, and hovers right on the edge of her personal space, “Felicity I’m not going to apologize for wanting to keep you safe.”

“And I’m not going to apologize for insisting that I’m fine.”

“This,” he gestures in the direction of the table, “this is your vain attempt to be normal, but you’re not. We’re not. And that’s okay.”

“No it isn’t,” she says it without thinking, “I don’t want this. I don’t want your life. I don’t want to be like you.”

If she’d slapped him Felicity knows the look on his face would have been easier to take. He steps back and she can feel the words of explanation clog up her throat.

“Oliver -,” she starts, but he waves a hand to stop her.

“Fine, then why the hell are you still here?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity has never been ordinary, but she's always imagined an ordinary life for herself after a traumatic childhood. Then she meets Oliver Queen and everything changes.
> 
> Or five times Oliver comes to Felicity's apartment and the time in-between.
> 
> (This is a Felicity Smoak story with eventual Olicity.)

***

If they are going to fight, real life isn’t interested in indulging them.

She shows up at work the next morning and Oliver barely looks at her. They move around each other - calling one another Mr. Queen and Ms. Smoak even when there is no one else there. If Dig notices, which Felicity is sure he does, he says nothing and silently she thanks him because she doesn’t want to talk about it.

There is one moment when the gap between them dissolves and they finally lock eyes.

When she shows up at the lair that night he looks up. He's sharpening arrows and the hairs on the back of her neck rise from the pressure of his eyes on her coming down the stairs. She’s still has her coat on, but goose bumps rise on her arms. She sees it on his face: astonishment at the fact that she’s there at all, as if he can’t quite believe it. It unnerves her how relieved he looks. 

She gets to the bottom of the stairs, and she can’t help but meet his gaze. She stands there and just looks at him. She tries to tell him all the things she is feeling - anger, confusion, doubt, loyalty, and guilt - all in a single look. Her heart is being pulled apart like putty and she imagines herself coming apart in long threads.

How do you tell someone that?

Part of her knows Oliver is not good for her. Part keeps insisting that nothing has changed now that he knows her secret. And then there is Diana’s voice in the back of her head urging her to take a risk and admit what is already true. Still, another part of her is just tired. It's a relief that someone knows. She wants to lean on him. She wants to lean on him so much it scares her.

Then there is the logical side of her. She doesn't want to be a hero. She just wants to be normal and if she starts training with Oliver - if she lets him into this part of her life that literally is so buried she forgets she ever lived it - then she’ll become him. Felicity is a genius and she knows that is not a road you come back from. Oliver. Sara. Helena. Even Malcolm Merlyn. Each of them put on a mask, picked up a weapon, and hid in the shadows because they couldn’t live in the real world anymore. They don’t belong in daylight; they were sound and shadow.

She tries to tell him all of that in a single look. Because it's Oliver emotion doesn’t break on his face. He stays still and unreadable. Except then he nods and Felicity nods back. This isn’t over, but in the mean time they’ve got work to do.

She sinks into her chair, rolls her shoulders, and gives herself a reprieve. Real life doesn't stop just because she's falling apart on the inside. So she lets the warring parts of her fall away and this gives room for the truth. She leans her head back and closes her eyes. She remembers Diana’s hand in her own and the steadiness she’d felt even if it had just been a dream.

The truth is Felicity doesn’t want to be that broken. She wants to be able to put herself back together. But here it's night and she’s sitting in the lair ready to work alongside him. The logical side of her warns her to walk away while she still can, but her heart beats in her throat and she knows what it means.

Her choice is already made.

***

_“Hey Felicity - it’s Lenore. Do you remember a guy named Danny Blevins? He messaged me on Facebook today. Apparently he went to MIT with us, but I don’t remember him and neither does Gina. He said something about starting an alumni group in Starling City.”_

***

The day after Thanksgiving people in the city begin to get sick and it doesn’t take long for Felicity to figure out Count Vertigo escaped and is drugging people. She holds onto Diggle as he shakes and she prays that she won’t lose someone else.

Not again. 

***

_Felicity - it’s Gina. I’m not going to be able to make it for dinner tonight cause I’m not feeling well. Lenore’s going to bring by some soup if you want to sit on my couch with us and watch me slowly die. Seriously I feel like death. I haven’t been this sick since I got mono our second year. Do remember that? Bobby Dawlings gave it to me. What an idiot he was, but man he could do things with his tongue...Anyways sorry for the semi-inappropriate trip down memory lane. I hope you’re not playing this message on speaker. I would die if Oliver Queen heard about what Bobby Dawlins could do with his tongue. Wow, this fever really is making me delusional. I should get going….oh speaking of memory lane - did Lenore tell you some guy we went to MIT with contacted her? Danny Blevins. Neither of us remember him, but we thought you might. He mentioned the underground poker game you ran. Anyways he’s hot so she just pretended she remembered him. Who knows? Maybe something will happen there. Lord knows that at least one of the three of us should get laid more often….also I want bonus points for not assuming that you’re sleeping with Oliver despite all evidence to the contrary. Seriously. We’re not done talking about that. We can talk about it tonight if you come over, but I kind of assume you’ll have to cancel because of work…_

***

  
There isn’t time for Felicity to wait for Oliver. Diggle is getting worse and if they want to come up with an antidote then they need a sample of the batch of Vertigo that affected him and half the city.

“Felicity - it’ll be alright,” Dig shivers under the blanket, “Oliver will be back soon. I can wait. I’ll be fine.”

Her eyes flick up to the monitor with his vitals and Felicity knows enough to see disaster if she doesn't do something now. His temperature has been raging for hours. His blood pressure is high and he can’t keep anything down.

She bites her lip and shakes her head.

“No. I’m not waiting. It’ll be easy. I’ll go to the truck, get the sample, and be back. Thirty minutes tops.”

“Felicity -,”

“Dig,” she stops putting her coat on to look at him, “it’s not just us. It’s the whole city. Everyone has someone who is dying from this thing and we’re a team. This isn’t just Oliver’s work. It’s yours and mine too. I’m not going to stand here when I can do something.”

He doesn’t look happy about it, but the look in his eyes softens and she nods at him before exhaling.

She can do this. She reminds herself she is brave just like Diana was brave.

***

_Listen Felicity Gina’s really sorry about that last message. She’s sitting here on the couch crying. I think its mostly her fever, but still if you’re mad and that’s why you’re not calling us back then you should know - we don’t think you’re sleeping with Oliver Queen. We trust you. We know you wouldn’t lie to us. We just miss you and it feels like ever since he showed up in your life you’ve just been...somewhere else. Does that make any sense? Whatever it is - just come over. We’ll talk. Watch Doctor Who. Nurse Gina back to health - as an aside I have to say I’m worried Lili. She’s really sick. But I don’t want to scare her. It seems like whatever she’s got half the city has. Did you see the DA collapse today at Moira Queen’s trial? Scary. It’d be really great if you could be here. I need you. Gina needs you. You’ve always been the strongest of the three of us._

***

When the Count drags his hands through Felicity’s hair she tells herself not to panic.

His hands are cold against the back of her neck and she hates that he's behind her. She can’t see him. All she can do is hear the chuckle low in his throat every few minutes. She imagines he is thinking about Oliver’s impending arrival. She shivers as his fingers dip beneath the collar of her dress and she inhales sharp when he strokes her skin. She imagines herself recoiling, but she can’t move. He’s tied her to the chair and the panic licks at her throat.

Felicity hates being confined. Her parents were murdered when she was jammed under that bed, the mattress springs tickling the back of her neck like the Count is now. Matthew and Diana died in that car, trapped, as their lungs filled with water. During the Undertaking Felicity imagined she’d die under thousands of pounds of concrete, and now she is trapped under his hands and she can’t get away.

The Count sits forward and his chin brushes her shoulder.

“You really are very pretty,” he trails a finger along her collarbone, pauses, and reaches up with his other hand to fondle Felicity’s breasts over her clothes.

She counts down like Diana taught her.

3...2...1…3...2...1

His hands are wrapped around her from behind and Felicity is pressed against the chair. She can’t move. All she can do close her eyes and imagine herself getting smaller and smaller until she escapes him entirely.

3...2...1...3...2...1

Diana taught her to count down. When her lungs threaten to close up and choke her - just count the air in and out.

“Don’t fight the panic,” Felicity can hear Diana tell her, “I know you want to be brave and make it go away, but sometimes brave isn’t saving the day. Sometimes it is getting through the fray intact.”

***

“Oliver don’t. Not for me.”

Felicity struggles against the Count and for the hundredth time she curses the fact that Oliver can make his face unreadable.

The Count’s hot breath is on her neck and she can see the tip of the needle as it catches the light. And then she is falling and he is gone. His hands are off her and she makes out the whoosh of arrows flying through the air. Dully she thinks one should be enough.

He killed for her.

He killed for her and went back on his vow to Tommy’s memory. Even after she told him that she didn’t want to become like him. She didn’t want to become a killer. She threw that in his face after he tried to help her - after he’d done nothing but be her friend. He’d done it for her and now he is cupping her face and drawing her eyes up to his.

“Hey, it’s alright. You’re safe.” he says and she notices his arm. He’s bleeding.

“You’re shot.”

“It’s nothing.”

And even though Felicity knows he’s talking about his arm the words feel bigger. Their differences - at the end of the day - are nothing.

***

“Oliver -,” Felicity takes a hesitant step in his direction, but falters when he turns toward her.

She clutches the blanket tighter around herself. She can’t quite seem to get warm and she can still feel the Count’s hands on her. It’s like he left impressions on her skin. She clenches her fists and tries to force her mind away from that memory.

“I...uh...I just wanted to say thank you.”

“Yeah.”

“And I’m sorry.”

He frowns and steps closer so the personal space between them is gone. “For what?”

“I got myself into trouble again and you,” she exhales, “killed him. You killed again and I’m sorry that I’m the one who put you in a position where you had to make that choice.”

“Felicity.” He covers her hand with his. For the first time since the Count abducted her the weight and warmth of Oliver’s grasp lets her forget the places the other man touched her. She doesn’t feel trapped in her own skin. She knows her feelings are all over her face, but she can’t look away when he’s so close and saying her name with that soft intent.

“He had you and he was going to hurt you. There was no choice to make.”

She ducks her head and he steps back. She misses his hand as soon as it's gone.

“I didn’t mean it,” she blurts out, “when I said I didn’t want to become you. I mean I don’t have any plans of learning a bow and arrow any time soon. If I was going to have a weapon I think I’d like something like Sara’s stick. That thing was bad ass. But what I mean,” she exhales and looks to the ceiling to try to rein in her heart hammering in her throat, “is that what I said isn’t actually true.”

“Felicity, I don’t want you to be like me.”

“What?”

“I need to know you’re safe. Training you was my way of trying to control my own fears. It wasn’t about turning you into someone else,” he shrugs. “I think you’re already pretty remarkable.”

“But I tried to do one simple thing and I got caught.”

“He set a trap and you went in without backup.”

“I didn’t think.”

“You don’t think like a soldier. You think like a scientist. That’s not wrong. That’s invaluable.”

She thins her lips and his brow furrows in a silent question.

“I just think its funny," she says, "how easy it is for us to see the good in one another, but we have such a hard time with ourselves.”

Oliver ducks his head, “When I was on the island weakness meant death and strength meant survival. There wasn’t time for shades of grey. I have a hard time with it now.”

“The first few times they moved me to a new safe house I’d cry because I didn’t want to have to start over, again. But with time I learned not to cry and then one day I didn’t want to cry. The idea of home was gone so I couldn’t miss it. I made it go away.” Her throat tightens. “It wasn’t until Matthew and Diana that I began to believe it might still exist.”

“What about now? Do you feel like you have a home now?”

Felicity looks around the lair. It’s not cozy or nearly colorful enough for her, but oddly it fits.

She nods. “Yeah, I do.”

He smiles and dips his head before heading toward the stairs.

And really the choice is already made. It’s been made since the moment she returned to the lair. It was made before the Count kidnapped her. It might have even been made before their fight.

“Oliver,” she calls out. He is on the bottom step and turns around. “I want to train. I keep thinking that maybe I can be normal and I do want that... to be normal I mean. Boring desk job. House. Family. The whole Pleasantville-experience I never had growing up. But more than that I can’t be a liability. I couldn’t live with myself if one of you got hurt because of me.”

He frowns, “If you want to train I’ll train you. But not because you’re a liability. Only do it because you want to.”

“I do. I want to.”

“Alright. We’ll start tomorrow. Bring clothes you can move around in.”

“Can we not do it here?” She lifts a shoulder, “I don’t want Dig to know. At least not yet. He’ll ask questions and I don’t want to lie to him. I’m not ready to talk about it with him.”

“Then your place. I’ll bring what we need.”

She smiles, “Okay.”

“And Felicity.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m selfish enough to be glad you haven’t gotten your normal. At least not yet.”

***

_Felicity we saw the news. Call us now._

***

_Lili, I don’t know if you’re at the hospital. The reports just said you were attacked at Queen Consolidated by that crazy man calling himself the Count. We called the police and the detective said you went to the hospital to get checked out. I’m going crazy. Gina’s too sick. I can’t leave her and I can’t take her out. Her temperature is 103. So call me when you get this. Or text. Just let us know you’re alright. You’ve got to be alright._

***

_Felicity Smoak? This is Danny Blevins. You probably don’t remember me. We had a few classes together at MIT. I know its really strange for me to be calling, but I saw the news that you’d been attacked by that crazy man. I was just calling to see if you were safe. I...uh don’t really expect you to call me back. I got coffee with Lenore the other day and she called me tonight to say she’s really worried about you. But if you do need something, let me know. I’m here for you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updating - the next couple chapters should be coming much more quickly. I needed to do some planning and that took a while. Don't you know - every time you comment an angel gets its wings?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity has never been ordinary, but she's always imagined an ordinary life for herself after a traumatic childhood. Then she meets Oliver Queen and everything changes.
> 
> Or five times Oliver comes to Felicity's apartment and the time in-between.
> 
> (This is a Felicity Smoak story with eventual Olicity)

***

The fourth time Oliver comes to Felicity’s apartment it's to train.

 

_(Later she will tell herself this whole story when her sanity threatens to shatter. She starts with the first time Oliver came to her apartment and each visit is another marker in her memories. She recites the story and holds onto it as a promise that maybe someday her life will again be marked by the times Oliver comes to her apartment._ _Just like how Diana taught her to count down when her brain fritzed, Felicity uses the numbers in her story to soothe herself. Each time it works she smiles a little because she can always count on numbers. They never lie. If she can just hold onto them there might be something left of her in the end.)_

 

Really he comes to her apartment too many times for her to count, but all of those visits blur into one another like a good movie montage. Felicity remembers them as one single time - a rush of memories and stolen moments.

 

She remembers hands on hips and quick exhales. She remembers groaning in the mornings from aches in muscles she didn’t even know she had. More than anything she remembers the taunt in Oliver’s eyes whenever she wanted to give up. He’d quirk his head to the side and it was enough to push her to keep going. In the back of her head a voice told her he was waiting for her to give up and hide in the safety of her computers.

 

Isn’t that what anyone who looked at her would expect?

 

Felicity Smoak is not a soldier. She is a scientist and a survivor. She’s not strong the way Oliver and Diggle are. Every time Oliver introduced a new exercise she was reminded of that. But Oliver never let up. He kept her moving and trying again until she got it. There was no time for fear to take hold. That Felicity remembers clearly.

 

She remembers all of those things as a single memory, but what stands out beyond everything else are the words.

 

The things they said to one another.

 

Those are hard to forget.

 

Over months they have one continuous conversation. It's interrupted by their work at Queen Consolidated and nights in the lair. Since Diggle didn’t know about what they ware doing neither make any reference to it around him. It is their secret and theirs alone.

 

There is a frenetic pace to Felicity’s training. Oliver never relents anytime Felicity suggests they take a day off. He is spooked by what he knows about her background and even more scared by what he didn’t know. They don't talk about it, but Felicity suspects that is why he pushed both of them so hard.

 

So everyday Oliver rapped on her apartment door and she’d sigh before reaching for her workout clothes. Saturday afternoons. Weekdays in lieu of dinner between work and Arrow duties. And often early mornings before the sun had risen. She thought trying to work two jobs was exhausting, but once she adds Oliver’s training Felicity laughs and pours herself another cup of coffee. 

 

Before they started training Felicity would have said she was one of the few people who knew the real Oliver Queen. Or rather, she was one of the few people who knew him as well as anyone could. And before they started training Felicity would have said that Oliver was one of the few people who knew her as well as anyone. But there are layers to people and in between the long runs and weight lifting there were words - snippets of conversation - that peeled back another layer of both Oliver and her.

 

This is the story of that conversation.

 

***

 

After Oliver kills the Count everyone at Queen Consolidated keeps asking Felicity if she’s alright. Lenore and Gina both break down in her apartment when they see the bruises on her neck and arms. The three of them curl up on the couch and watch X-Files.

 

“Why is this the year of shit?” Lenore blurts out between episodes. She tops off all of their wine glasses.

 

Felicity turns her head, “I don’t think its been a shitty year.”

 

Both of her friends stare at her.

 

“Lenore’s sister dies in a terrorist attack,” Gina stammers, “I almost die from a city-wide poisoning, and you’re held at gunpoint by a madman…”

 

“And then you were rescued by a masked vigilante who might also be a madman.” Lenore finishes.

 

Felicity has to blink before it occurs to her that to Lenore and Gina those were extraordinary events. The violence has become so normal to Felicity. Death has visited her too many times that it is an unwelcome, but familiar friend. She expects it.

 

But there is nothing normal about violence. It's red and raw and terrible. It's flesh ripping and the muscles of the heart giving out. It's hardened hatred and lost minds. She’s seen Oliver’s scars and she knows John is scared from getting too close to Carly and his nephew again lest he infect them with his ghosts. She thinks of Tommy and wonders what has his death has done to Laurel? Would it make a difference if she knew her sister was alive? She wonders about Sara. Is she alone? Is she warm? Does she laugh? And because it's in her nature, Felicity thinks of her own pain last. She remembers her dream and the weight of Diana’s hand in her own. She lets herself think back to the faint memories of her biological parents. She remembers Matthew’s smile and how he taught her to shoot a basketball. All of them are gone. Wiped from the earth because of violence. She ducks her head and she swallows, but she can’t stop the tears.

 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, “I’m so, so sorry. For all of it.”

 

“Lili,” Gina rubs her back, “none of it's your fault.”

 

Her friends loop their arms around her and hold her while she cries. They think she’s crying because she’s scared from being kidnaped by the Count. But she’s not. When he grabbed her she knew Oliver was on his way. She isn’t naive. There’s a chance someday he won’t be there to save her, but Felicity isn’t shattered by the idea that she might get hurt. She cries because the pain has become normal again.

 

***

 

Felicity means to call Danny Blevins back. Lenore gets coffee with him and he asks if Felicity is alright. Lenore is pretty sure she remembers him from their freshman chemistry class, but Felicity doubts that. She’d been in the same lab group as Lenore and there hadn’t been a Danny Blevins. From what Lenore and Gina report Danny Blevins is hot. She suspects that is what triggers Lenore’s sudden memories. But she really doesn’t give it more than a passing thought because real life is kind of kicking her ass right now. Actually, it’s Oliver - or rather their training - that is kicking her ass. The man really knows how to make her sore.

 

***

 

“You really know the way to a girl’s heart Oliver Queen,” Felicity calls out from the sidewalk.

 

He leans against his motorcycle and she tries to ignore the way her stomach flutters at the site of him waiting outside her building for her, casual in that cognac leather coat. Besides green, Felicity decides she likes him best in that coat.

 

“Wrestling mats and a punching bag showed up on my doorstep over night. I think my doorman Larry thought I’d gone crazy. That or abducted by aliens.”

 

“I might have gone overboard.”

 

“Yeah, the shinai were hard to explain to Larry. I’m the girl who takes the elevator up one floor when she has groceries.”

 

“I’m impressed you know what a shinai is.”

 

He holds the door open for her and she tries to ignore the gesture. She does not want to notice Oliver Queen’s gestures.

 

“I'll admit I had to google it. So are you going to be teaching me kendo?”

 

“You said you liked Sara’s staff better than shooting,” he shrugs and heads toward the stairs. When she grunts, he raises an eyebrow. “It’ll be good warm-up.”

 

She trudges up the steps, he arches an eyebrow, and she points out that he isn’t wearing four-inch heels, which he studies for a moment.

 

“You should wear more sensible shoes.”

 

“But they’re so pretty,” she stops one step above him and wiggles an ankle.

 

He passes her, trailing a hand across her shoulder, “Thea is obsessed with heels too.”

 

“You are too. You just don’t know it.” Felicity matches him step for step.

 

“How?”

 

“Ever admire a woman’s legs?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“10 to 1 she was wearing a heel. Men see legs, women see shoes.”

 

He leans against her door as she digs for her keys.

 

“What?” she catches him watching her.

 

“Nothing.”

 

She frowns, “You’re smiling.”

 

“So?”

 

“You don’t smile. It’s not your thing.”

 

He balks and follows her into the apartment when she finally gets the door open. Her couch is pushed back against the far wall and in the center of her apartment is the mat he had delivered to her apartment over the weekend. The punching bag leans lopsided against her bookshelf half unpacked. 

 

Felicity pulls two water bottles out of her fridge and hands him one.

 

“I smile,” he says petulantly. All she has to do is raise an eyebrow and he mutters something into the bottle as he takes a sip.

 

Felicity jerks a thumb over her shoulder, “I’m going to change and then we can get started.”

 

Oliver nods.

 

When Felicity closes the door to her bedroom she takes a moment to exhale. She's about to have Oliver’s hands all over her. There is going to be sweat and horizontal surfaces.

 

 _Stop with the conversation_ , she tells herself. They didn't need to add playful banter to the mix. Felicity forces herself to push off from the door and find something to wear.

 

***

 

He starts with running. Felicity hates running. In gym class she used to watch the pony tails of the girls ahead of her swing back and forth like a mocking chant. Everyone was faster than her. But Oliver has her running three miles the first day; he doesn’t even ask if she can do it. He tells her she’s going to do it.

 

They go to the park and he runs backwards while she huffs and puffs through the woods.

 

“You’re annoying,” she gasps when they start to cool down.

 

He checks his watch and cringes, “A nine minute mile.”

 

She groans, “I can hack into a federal database faster than that.”

 

This earns her a small smile from Oliver.

 

When they get back to her apartment she collapses on her couch, but he kicks her sneaker with his and pulls her up.

 

“I thought we were done.”

 

He snorts and tells her to show him a push up.

 

She drops to her knees on the mat just like she learned in high school, but before she can even finish Oliver’s hands are on her hips and legs.

 

“Where did you learn form like that?”

 

“My form was just fine for Mrs. Fitzsimmons.”

 

“Mrs. Fitzsimmons didn’t need you safe,” Oliver mutters. His hands guide her legs out so they are straight and he locks her elbows, “Now starting position is your chest two inches off the floor. I’ll...um...let you figure that part out.”

 

“Thanks,” Felicity grunts.

 

***

 

For a month that’s all they do - run, push ups, weights, sit ups. Repeat. It’s painful and dull. There is something agonizing about half-killing yourself for no real goal. Whenever Felicity asks what the point of all this repetition is, Oliver says, “Strength.”

 

That’s it. That’s the only explanation she gets.

 

If that is their only goal then it's working. Felicity can feel herself getting stronger. Her posture is better. She cuts 30 seconds off her mile average and she can run five miles without wanting to die. She's up to 17 push ups in the proper form by the end of the month, and Oliver tells her she’s strong enough to pass the army basic training fitness exam. It's her turn to snort.

 

“You should be proud of yourself,” he says quietly, “strength is important.”

 

She stills and thins her lips. She’s an idiot. Strength is everything to Oliver right now. He’s still recovering from his fight with Cyrus Gold. The man had strength of untold depth. He almost destroyed Oliver and if it hadn’t been for Barry Allen Felicity knows she would have lost her friend.

 

“We’ll figure out who has the Mirakuru,” she says.

 

They stand a few feet apart on the wrestling mat in her living room. Oliver nods, but doesn’t say anything. Since his hallucinations he hasn’t said much of anything. He went to fight Gold and didn’t promise to come back.

 

It scared her to death. It scared her more than she’d ever been scared for Oliver. The entire time he was gone she sat in front of her monitors, but she didn’t move. She couldn’t even pretend to be doing something. She just sat there. The idea that Oliver wouldn’t come back was like staring at a blank screen. There was a blinking cursor and the code was just waiting to be written. All she had to do was start, but she couldn’t because the idea that Oliver wouldn’t come back left her empty. There was no starting over from that. 

 

But he came back, and Felicity resolved to put that fear and what it meant inside a deep dark place in her heart.

 

Right in front of her is Barry Allen. Barry Allen is exactly the type of guy who she should want to be with. He's smart and he likes her. He stood up to Oliver for her. He even knows about Oliver’s identity. He literally is the only guy she wouldn’t have to lie to...well she wouldn’t have to lie about Oliver. Lying about herself is a given.

 

Which is why she turned down his invitation to dinner. She wouldn’t be good for someone like Barry Allen. He deserved someone sweet and normal. Whatever Felicity is at this point -- she is far from normal.

 

But Felicity pushes those thoughts away because Oliver is standing in front of her, the muscles in his neck flexed, and he looks down. She’s never seen him this spooked and she crosses the space between them.

 

“We’ll stop this guy. We always do," she says. 

 

“Even if we find him I don’t know if I’ll be strong enough to stop him.”

 

She doesn’t want to offer hollow words so instead she puts a hand on his shoulder. He’s always doing that to her and it helps somehow. It’s the way they comfort one another. Felicity calls them shoulder touches in her head. To her there's an invisible line between them and sometimes it's good to cross it. When he came back from fighting Gold she didn’t think twice. She hugged him tight because at that moment she needed too. When they train sometimes Oliver will adjust her form, but most of the time they each stay on their side of the line. Shoulder touches. That was their line in the sand. It’s a good and healthy one.

 

“You’re right,” she says, “strength is important, but it isn’t the only way.”

 

***

 

“Lili is there something you want to tell us?”

 

Felicity looks up from the ham and cheese omelette she’s eating. “I don’t think so...”

 

She completed a ten mile run this morning and for once convinced Oliver to cut their training short. She hasn’t seen her best friends in almost a month despite the fact that they work in the same building.

 

Her mouth is full of food when she says it and her friends share a look. She glances down. They’re still working on their strawberry crepes, but Felicity is onto her second plate. The waffles she ordered are gone and she is pretty sure she could put away two servings of breakfast potatoes if she sat here long enough. Training with Oliver leaves her starving, but never with enough time to eat. In the intervening weeks she’s mastered the art of put-food-in-mouth. Sitting down with the single goal of eating a meal is a damn indulgence. 

 

Gina puts a hand on her arm. “We’ll be excited if you are…

 

“And totally supportive if you’re not.” Lenore finishes.

 

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

Gina tips her head, “Come on. You’re eating like a high school boy. You’re suddenly wearing loose fitting blouses.”

 

They both stare at her and Felicity pinches the bridge of her nose. This is why Oliver is always short with people. She seriously doesn’t have time to play guessing games with them. She needs to put in time at the office to get ready for a board meeting, sift through a ton of data looking for this guy in a mask that Oliver is so hellbent on finding, and attempt to clean her apartment. It’s starting to smell like a gym. The whole point of brunch was that she could eat while they talked.

 

“Just tell me what you want me to say because I really have no clue what is going on.”

 

Lenore pats her hand, “Honey, you’re pregnant.”

 

She literally chokes on her food. Gina has to slap her on the back.

 

“Pregnant?! How? Why would you think that?”

 

Gina ticks off the reasons. “You’re always saying you’re tired. You stopped wearing all those cute dresses. And you’re eating enough for two. Maybe three.”

 

She can’t explain to them that she’s starving because she’s basically living through boot camp and she’s wearing oversized clothes because she’s got muscles in her legs and shoulders that she didn’t used to have. It’s easier to hide the new hard planes of her body than explain them.

 

She can’t tell them the truth so she goes with the most obvious lie.

 

“It’s Oliver,” she stammers, “he’s given me a lot of responsibility and I’ve been stress eating and nothing fits right, but I don’t have time to go shopping. He’s just put these ridiculous expectations on me and I just don’t have any personal time anymore, but I don’t want to disappoint him. It’s just easier to eat cheesecake.”

 

Like the good friends they are Lenore and Gina call Oliver Queen all sorts of names - insensitive pig, domineering dictator, and the like. It feels great. Felicity feels bad. She really does, but then she remembers the way he had her jump rope for an hour yesterday and she doesn’t feel quite that bad.

 

***

 

“Felicity Smoak?”

 

She’s chewing on a pen and thinking of brownies when the man approaches her desk.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Hi, I’m Danny Blevins.”

 

“I know who you are,” she starts, “I mean I recognize you because my best friend has shown me the picture she took of you without you knowing when you got coffee last week. But you didn’t come here to listen to me babble about how creepy she sounds even if she isn’t and I’m going to stop talking in 3..2..1….”

 

He’s not smiling when she looks up at him. 

 

She clears her throat and folds her hands in a way she hopes communicates the professional she’s supposed to be.

 

He sticks his hand out, “Maybe we should try again. I’m Danny.”

 

“I’m Felicity.”

 

“I’ve heard. Actually, I should say I remember. I used to buy into your underground poker tournament when I had enough money. You’re still something of a legend at MIT.”

 

“Felicity, you never told me you played poker,” Oliver leans in the doorway to his own office. He looks the part of confidant executive in his grey suit and casually crossed arms. The king at the top of his kingdom. Felicity rolls her eyes.

 

“Felicity ran this epic underground poker tournament on campus,” Danny explains to Oliver, “She ran it all year and people would actually come just to watch. Campus security was always trying to catch the organizer, but they never suspected the pretty blonde who was top of her class.” His eyes are on her when he says the last part and Felicity can’t help but blush.

 

“Yeah, no one ever suspects the blonde,” Oliver winks over Danny’s shoulder.  

 

“Coffee,” she says as she stands up.

 

Danny smiles, “What?”

 

“Do you want to go get coffee? That is why you came, right?” She doesn’t care if it isn’t. She’s not going to stand here in front of Oliver and watch him do whatever it is that he’s doing right now. She isn’t exactly sure why he came out here. She knows he is swamped with prep work for his meeting with Isabel tomorrow.  

 

Felicity does not miss the way Danny’s face lights up and she’s pretty sure Oliver sees it too because his jaw tightens in that same way it did when Barry was here.

 

“Totally!” He turns pink and clears his throat. “What I mean is yes. I was going to ask. I have something I was hoping to discuss with you. I mean only if that’s alright…” Danny looks over to Oliver, but Felicity already has her purse and is walking past him toward the elevators.

 

“You don’t need to ask his permission,” she calls out, “he’s not my keeper.”

 

“But I am your boss,” Oliver says half-heartedly.

 

The elevator dings and right before she gets on with Danny in tow Felicity winks at Oliver.

 

***

 

Danny Blevins turns out to be harmless and adorable. They get coffee across the street from Queen Consolidated because Felicity really doesn’t have time for coffee, but for whatever reason Oliver’s behavior irked her. They literally spend every waking hour together. He didn’t need to hover in doorways just because a new man talked to her.

 

A new man who is as hot as Lenore’s photo of him turned out to be. Felicity isn’t sure what’s going on between her best friend and Danny Blevins so she curbs her thoughts, but he is very good looking. And sweet. And smart. But Lenore is interested and Felicity doesn’t have time to go on dates. She’s got to get up in the morning and run.

 

So she listens patiently as Danny explains he needs help tracking down a friend of his.

 

“Why come to me?” she asks when he’s done.

 

He flushes a little, “Cause at MIT you had a reputation for being good at this kind of stuff.”

 

“What kind of stuff?”

 

“Hacking.”

 

“What is your friend into?”

 

“I don’t know. All I know is that a couple of years ago he dropped off the grid and I’ve turned over every digital rock I can think of, but I can’t find him. So when I moved back here and reconnected with Lenore I remembered how good you were and she says you don’t like mysteries.”

 

“I don’t.”

 

“So will you help?”

 

Felicity smiles because this she can handle. This is straightforward and she could use a little straight forward in her life.

 

“Yes, Danny I’ll help.”

 

***

 

“The first thing you want to do is scream,” Oliver stands behind her and Felicity is too aware of him. His hands skim the sides of her arms and then he is grabbing her wrists, pulling them tight behind her.

 

“HEY!” she jerks, but his grip is too strong. He holds her tight against him and though he is careful not to hurt her annoyance flares up in her.

 

“Louder,” he says into her ear.

 

“I’ve got neighbors.”

 

“Then don’t yell help.”

 

She pulls, but she goes no where. His hands are firm on her arms and he shifts so he is over her shoulder now and his breath is hot on her neck. Felicity closes her eyes and wills herself to focus. Finally, after weeks, Oliver decided she was strong enough to start training for something real, even if it was just defense techniques.

 

“What am I supposed to yell?”

 

“How about my name.”

 

She can hear the smirk in his voice and she jerks her hips back into him for that one. He makes an _oof_ sound in his throat. She smirks herself and in that second he jerks them both so they end up on the mat with her pinned beneath him and him on top of her. Under different circumstances it could be considered exciting, but it isn’t because her chin is digging into the mat. Oliver doesn’t rest his full weight on her but it's enough. The sensation of being pinned like that, unable to move her feet or arms, is enough to flare panic in her blood.

 

“OLIVER!”

 

“That’s better. Now the next thing -,”

 

“NO, OLIVER GET OFF ME! OLIVER!”

 

He scrambles off her faster than she can drag a breath. Her lungs are closing up and she curls in on herself. She shakes, trying to get rid of that feeling of being trapped. Trapped like she had been under her parent’s bed and in that car as Matthew and Diana drowned. Trapped like she’d been in the basement of Verdant during the Undertaking and tied to that chair by the Count. Trapped with no way to move and no way to save anyone.

 

“Felicity,” he voice is gentle and he doesn’t touch her. She nods a little and then feels his arms around her. He picks her up and pulls her into his lap. Vaguely she thinks about lines and shoulder touches. This is so beyond that, but she doesn’t care. She leans into him because she needs something to believe in besides her own panic.

  
***

 

“Oliver,” Felicity says a week later. They’ve just finished up a run and are cooling down on a stretch of path that has become her favorite in the park.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I want to try again. I don’t want to just run. I want to be able to defend myself.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with running Felicity. In fact it's smart.”

 

“Yeah, but I can’t panic and freeze up. We face too many dangerous situations for me to do that.”

 

“You shouldn’t be in those situations in the first place.”

 

Felicity stops jogging and her hands find her hips. “I thought we were past that.”

 

“Past what?”

 

“The patented Oliver Queen self-flagellation. Now that you know about my past I thought you’d be over this ridiculous idea that you introduced some sort of dark violence into my life and put me at danger. I did that entirely on my own long before I ever met you.”

 

“You didn’t do anything to cause your family and Matthew and Diana to die. It’s not your fault.”

 

She thins her lips, “I’ll believe it when what we do stops sounding so normal to me.”

 

***

 

The next morning Oliver knocks on her door before the sun is even up. Felicity shuffles from her bed already in her running clothes. It’s easier to sleep in them. It’s one less thing she has to think about in the mornings. But this morning Oliver isn’t in sweats. He’s dressed in a suit, and for a moment she’s sure she overslept entirely.

 

“What time is it?” she looks at her apartment windows, but it’s still dark out. Did she sleep through the whole day?

 

“Shower,” Oliver says, “I’m going to do your dishes.”

 

“What?”

 

He takes her by the arms and leads her toward her bedroom, “Go. take. a. shower. I’m going to do your dishes and maybe a load of laundry. Your place smells like a gym.”

 

“You’re wearing a $2,000 suit.”

 

“And I have a hundred of them.”

 

“Oliver, what’s going on?”

 

“We’re taking the day off.”

 

She whimpers. The words sound so good that she actually whimpers.

 

“Then can’t I go back to bed?” she protests as Oliver nudges her past her bed and toward the bathroom, “Why are you even here?”

 

“Because we have plans.”

 

“You have a terrible idea of a day off.”

 

He smiles conspiratorially.

 

“Take a shower and wear a dress.”

 

***

 

They have a different driver than Diggle. Felicity suspects he has the day off too. When Oliver wants to distract he gives people the day off. She files that observation away as a mental note.She knows he gave Diggle the day off because he didn’t want any questions about what they are doing. She has questions herself, but Oliver isn’t answering them. Rather, he ushers her from the town car to a private plane.

 

She balks when she sees it. “Seriously?” 

 

“Trust me.” 

 

When they are in the air she tries to pry it out of him where they are going. But he shakes his head and laughs. She sips champagne a stewardess brings her and kicks her heels off. He goes back to his magazine. The image causes her to stop and look at him.

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do that before?”

 

“What? Smile?” he says sardonically.

 

“Read.”

 

“I -,” he stammers, “I read.”

 

“What does Oliver Queen like to read?”

 

He holds up the business magazine in his lap and Felicity snorts.

 

“I read the Odyssey in college.”

 

She tips an invisible hat to him and he puts the magazine down. They’re sitting in seats facing one another and Felicity is surprised when he grabs her bare feet and pulls them up so they’re perched next to his legs on his seat. It’s not quite putting her feet in his lap, but then again everything between her and Oliver could be defined by not-quite.

 

“What do you Felicity Smoak like to read?”

 

***

 

“Oliver, where are we going?”

 

“Already tried that question.”

 

“So if I ask something else there is a chance you might answer it?”

 

“I’m an open book.”

 

“Hardly.”

 

“Well, let’s say today I’m more of an open book than usual.”

 

“Fair enough. Let’s see what deep dark Oliver Queen secrets do I want to know? I know...first time you got drunk?”

 

“Seriously? That’s what you want to know?”

 

“I figure I’ll warm you up by lobbing easy ones at you.”

 

“Fine. Um, I was thirteen and Tommy and I broke into my dad’s liquor. We drank scotch and passed out. I woke up in the hospital with my stomach being pumped because my parents had no idea how much I’d had to drink.”

 

“Ugh, that’s terrible.”

 

“What’s worse is Malcolm Merlyn didn’t even come see Tommy. He let my dad take care of both of us.”

 

“That’s so sad.”

 

“Ask something else. Something happy.”

 

“First kiss.”

 

“Raisa.”

 

“What?!”

  
“I was five. Tommy dared me so I climbed onto the kitchen counter and kissed her when she was kneading bread. She took me over her knee and smack me good. I had flour on my ass for a week.”

 

“You probably deserved it.”

 

“How about you?”

 

“My first kiss? I didn’t know the questions went both ways.”

 

“Maybe I’m curious.”

 

“Um, I was eleven. His name was Greg Knut and his best friend had a crush on me and I thought he was just the priggish guy possible. He wouldn’t leave me alone so I kissed Greg and his friend.........oh my god.”

 

“What?”

 

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it.”

 

“Felicity, you look like you saw a ghost.”

 

“His best friend’s name was Daniel.”

 

“Okay?”

 

“But he went by Junior. That’s why I didn’t put it together right away. Oh my god.”

 

“Fel-li-ci-ty, talk to me.”

 

“Greg Knut’s best friend went by Junior, but his name was Daniel Blevins.”

 

“As in the Danny Blevins who took you to coffee last week?”

 

“But there’s no way. I mean I was a different person. I had a different name. I wasn’t Felicity Smoak. There’s no way he could know that I was me unless…”

 

“Unless he knows about WITSEC.”

 

“Oliver, if they’ve found me...”

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity has never been ordinary, but she's always imagined an ordinary life for herself after a traumatic childhood. Then she meets Oliver Queen and everything changes.
> 
> Or five times Oliver comes to Felicity's apartment and the time in-between.
> 
> (This is a Felicity Smoak story with eventual Olicity)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone knows who Felicity Smoak used to be and it threatens to upend everything in her life.

***

As the terrible truth unfolds in Felicity's chest the panic rises sharp and fast.

Suddenly, she’s that little girl trapped underneath the bed while men destroy her life and gut her parents. Everything she’s done to move on and all the people who have died trying to keep her safe -- all of it was for nothing. They found her anyways. She’s never really been free.

“Felicity, stay with me,” Oliver’s voice is firm. He grips her hands and when she looks up it's his face that she focuses on. “Breathe, honey.”

She forces herself to take deep breaths until her lungs are working in tandem with Oliver's. He breathes in and so does she; together they exhale.  _Together._ She’s not alone. She has Oliver and they have Diggle. It’s a small hope, but it's hope nonetheless. This time she’s not alone. She’s not going to lose more people. She won’t let it happen.

“My tablet,” she stutters, “I need my tablet.”

Oliver puts it in her hands. The keyboard and screen steady her; they're familiar. There is nothing lurking out there that she can’t handle. When it comes to computers Felicity is strong.

“I’m finding everything I can on Danny Blevins. Record. Financials. Cell phone.” She pushes her glasses up and looks at Oliver, “You should call Dig.”

“You’re ready to read him in?”

Felicity’s throat tightens, “I need him to get Lenore and Gina out. I don’t have a choice. We’re hours away from Starling and I need them safe.”

Oliver nods and stands up. He is already dialing Dig and Felicity is about to turn back to her tablet when she feels his hand skim her hair. She looks up and Oliver’s hand cups her cheek.

Neither of them say anything, but the way he is looking at her right now warms Felicity from the inside out. Her breath catches at the intense blue of his eyes. She can’t read it exactly because the look isn’t about words. It’s about feeling and what she sees there on his face is every feeling in one: determination, fear, resilience, loyalty, and even love.

It’s a tender and fierce love. It’s the type of love you don’t find very often, she tells herself. It’s a go-to-the-ends-of-the-earth, you-matter, the-world-is-better-because-you-are-in-it kind of love. Matthew and Diana loved her like that. Lenore and Gina do. And in that look Felicity realizes he does too.  Him and Dig. They love her; she is not alone. Felicity hopes he can see it in her eyes that she loves him with the same kind of feeling. She wonders if he knows, but she doesn’t have time to ask him because Dig picks up on the other end of the line and Oliver’s hand falls away as he starts talking in clipped sentences.

***

 

They turn around from wherever they are going and head back to Starling. Felicity makes a mental note to get back there with him someday, wherever it is he had planned for them.

Diggle is a good soldier and doesn’t ask questions over the phone. The thirty minutes it takes him to track down Gina and Lenore at Queen Consolidated are some of the worst of Felicity’s life. She keeps herself busy making plans for them to leave town.

She purchases multiple plane tickets in their names and then buys two tickets under aliases she created for herself if Team Arrow ever needed to travel undercover internationally. When it came time to buy the tickets she reaches for her wallet. There goes most of her savings since taking the EA job with its generous pay package. But when she pulls out the credit card, Oliver makes a noise and shakes his head.

“Use one of the black accounts.”

The black accounts are funds Oliver set up when he turned to the vigilante business. Anything Arrow related comes from untraceable overseas bank accounts. Felicity doesn't ask where the money originated from. She has access to all his financials and she knows his trust fund sits largely untouched so it didn't come from his family’s money. The black accounts are one of the many things Oliver brought back with him from the island that they don’t talk about.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“No thanks necessary.”

She books one way tickets to Tahiti and a suite at one of the most secure resorts she can find. When Diggle calls to report that he has a very confused Gina and Lenore sitting across from him in a booth at Big Belly Felicity already has an expense account set up for them. She’s even hacked Gina and Lenore’s email accounts and sent cheery emails to their family and friends letting them know they’re taking a last minute trip for work.

“Do you want to talk to them?” Oliver covers the phone with a hand and Felicity hesitates.

Is she ready to explain herself? How does she do that without exposing Oliver and Arrow?

No, she shakes her head. “Tell Diggle to take them straight to the airport. Don’t let them go home and pack. They can buy new clothes once they get there. Their tickets will be waiting for them at the counter. He’s going to have to come up with a reason to explain why they need to travel under an alias. Whatever he comes up with, let’s hope its better than your excuses.”

“Felicity,” Oliver hesitates, “they’re your best friends.”

“You don’t tell your family about what you do because its the best way to keep them safe. Your life, your choice. My life, my choice.”

He nods and relays the instructions to Diggle. She’s thankful that he doesn’t point out that it isn’t her life they’re talking about. It’s the lives of the people who love her. She’s making choices for them, not herself. Felicity knows she’s not being fair to Lenore and Gina. She knows this is going to change everything for them. But she can’t think about that right now. She just needs to know they’re safe.

And she finally understands what Oliver felt like when he was trying to convince her to train. She understands the impulse to want to wrap your loved ones up in cotton and ignore the fact that they are independent people. The right thing to do would be to let Gina and Lenore make their own choices, but Felicity can’t take that chance right now. 

Oliver hangs up the phone and sits down in his chair across from her. He watches her, but she doesn’t make eye contact because she’s afraid of what will be on his face. She doesn’t want to see his worry. She has enough of her own. Instead, she focuses on the information at her fingertips.

“Danny called me and Lenore and Gina dozens of times, but every time it was from a burner phone. I can’t find any public record of an address in Starling and the email account he used with Lenore is empty except for their correspondence.”

“What about a police record?”

“Nothing,” she shakes her head, “just copies of his driver’s license.”

She pulls them up and panic catches in her throat.

Oliver scoots forward to look at her screen.

“That’s not him,” she whispers. The guy in the DMV photos has light sandy brown hair and is much shorter than the Danny Blevins who showed up in Starling.

“You didn’t recognize the difference?”

“Oliver the last time I saw him we were eleven and a month later I saw my parents cut up by butchers. His features aren’t exactly burned into my brain.”

Felicity rubs her temples trying to understand. “Danny Blevins is the name of a kid from before my parents were killed, but he pretended we went to MIT together. He used that as an in to get to Lenore and Gina. But why?” Her gaze goes hazy as she flips the series of events over in her mind like a rolodeck. “...and then when I wouldn’t call him back he showed up at my work to ask for my help.”

“What was the friend’s name he asked you to look into?”

“It was no one. I couldn’t find anything,” Felicity shakes her head. “A dead end.”

“It may be all we have.”

“Um...Dr. Tony Ives.”

Oliver goes completely still.

“What?” Felicity reaches forward and takes his hand, but he barely responds. The fear in his eyes scares her. “Oliver you’ve got to talk to me.”

“The man who came to the island looking for the Mirakuru was name Dr. Anthony Ivo.”

“It could be a coincidence,” Felicity tries, but even as she does she doesn’t really believe it. Her fingers fly across the keyboard and it only takes a moment to figure out that Ives is a version of the name Ivo. She starts searching for everything she can find on Dr. Anthony Ivo. Pages and pages come up on her screen and she can feel the panic threatening to burst out again, but Oliver slams her computer shut and jumps up. He’s pacing.

“Oliver, we need to know,” she protests.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” he mutters. Felicity stands up and puts herself in Oliver’s path. The plane is small so there is no where for him to go. “You’re not supposed to be part of this,” he sags and she holds onto his arms. She will never be as strong as Oliver, but she can stand her ground in front of him. He can lean on her just a little bit.

“Blevins wanted to get my attention. He used the name of a kid from my life before my parents were murdered, but he pretended to be from MIT. He didn’t approach me directly. He used my friends. He only came to my work after I didn’t call him back. And then he asked me to look into that name. Why?

“He wanted to get your attention.”

“But why drag elements from all the different parts of my life? If he wanted my attention then why didn’t he do something more...direct?”

“Because..." Felicity can practically see the gears in Oliver's head turning. He closes his eyes as the pieces form a whole picture, "Blevins didn’t want to call anyone else’s attention to you. He was waiting for you to figure it out. He wanted you to know he knows who you really are. But he doesn’t want anyone else knowing who you are. He’s not trying to expose you. He’s trying to scare you.”

A shiver dances down her spine. “He’s succeeded there.”

"Hey," Oliver cups her cheek and directs her gaze to his, “We’re going to get this guy and I am going to put arrows in him until he talks.”

Her eyes go wide, “Do you think he knows about you? What about your identity?”

Oliver shakes his head, “I’m not worried about that right now.”

“But he could expose you!”

“Felicity, what I want to know is how this is connected to Ivo and the Mirakuru. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I need to know who you used to be.”

She closes her eyes. It’s time.

“Can we wait until the plane lands and Dig is here? I only want to tell the story once.”

***


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity has never been ordinary, but she's always imagined an ordinary life for herself after a traumatic childhood. Then she meets Oliver Queen and everything changes.
> 
> Or five times Oliver comes to Felicity's apartment and the time in-between.
> 
> (This is a Felicity Smoak story with eventual Olicity)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felicity finally tells her story...

My name was Megan. Megan Drasch. I lived in Brooklyn - an old neighborhood where people lived on the same street for generations. Almost like a small town in the middle of a city. We all attended the same schools, worshipped at the same synagogues, and shopped at the same grocery stores. My mother’s whole family still lives within blocks of our old apartment. It’s a whole world unto itself and it hardly ever changes.

 

Sometimes I forget what she looked like. My mother. I don’t look like her. She had these beautiful brown eyes; all her sisters had the same eyes. They all looked like old movie stars. My cousins too. But I look like my father.

 

My father loved math. He used to take me to Yankee games. We’d sit in the nosebleeds and he’d teach me about statistics using baseball. When I watch baseball I think of him.

 

My father was a good man, but he was weak. He was a follower and there was no one he’d follow more than my mother. And my mother was good too. I think. She wasn’t warm. She hated how I would babble because she wasn’t a talker. She kept things hidden. But I think she was good. I don’t know, really, what makes people good or bad. We probably all have both in us.

 

My mother came from a well-to-do family and she expected my father to provide us with a certain kind of lifestyle. Nothing like your family Oliver, but poor was not acceptable to her. She pushed him to find ways to make more money.

 

My father became a counterfeiter. He was very good at it. It wasn’t just the making of the money that he was good at. He was brilliant at figuring out how much to make without drawing attention and how to put the money back into circulation. He was very good at solving problems like that. I didn’t know any of this growing up. I thought my dad was a math teacher, which he was. The counterfeiting he did on the side to make my mother happy.

 

When I was ten a man came to our apartment and he and my dad sat in the kitchen for a long time talking. I remember because it was the first time my dad didn’t watch the Yankee game with me. The man talked about changing the world. He had a plan to make people stronger, more resilient to disease and injury. But to finish the research he needed money - untraceable money. He asked my father to help him do that.

 

After the man came my father changed. He became desperate. He worked night and day. He drank. He and my mother started fighting. The man scared her. The amount of money my dad was making scared her. She was sure he would get caught. She wanted him to get out, but my dad said it was too late to do that. He said he was doing this for her. That all of this was for her and me.

 

My mother changed too. She stopped being beautiful. She stopped trying, and she began age, rapidly. She went grey and all her skin became puffy. Inside she changed too. She became even colder than before. I remember falling asleep at night and praying for new parents because mine were gone. They kept saying they were doing all this for me, but I felt completely alone.

 

Then one night my mother made me go to bed early. I threw a fit and told her I hated her. She slapped me. She’d never done that before. I remember I stared at her and she stared at me. I waited for her to say she was sorry, but she didn't. That was the last time I ever saw her alive.

 

I don’t remember the last time I saw my father alive. A lot of that night is hazy. I just remember hearing him shout my name through my bedroom door. He told me to get under my bed and then I heard him open the hall closet where he kept his father’s old shotgun.

 

Most of what happened next was silent. I heard my mother open the front door. There were two men. The four of them stood in the kitchen and talked. My dad never got a chance to use the gun. There was one scream - my mother’s. I think it was when they stabbed my father.  The moment I heard my mother’s scream...I knew they were dead. I didn’t have any hope that whoever had come would leave them alive. When it got quiet I went out to the kitchen and found my parents. They cut my mother’s throat. My father they stabbed six times. I stood there and counted the holes.

 

When I was standing there I heard the door knob turn and I hid in the pantry. The guys were back and this time the man came too. He stood over my dead parents and yelled. I guess they were supposed to kill my family somewhere else. No one was supposed to know they’d been murdered. He told them to move the bodies and then he left.

 

There was a crack in the pantry door and I watched them put tarps down on the linoleum and move my parents onto them. They decided to cut them up. It’d be easier to get them out of the apartment. I didn’t watch that part, but I listened to it happen. Sometimes I think that was worse.

 

….

 

Sorry, I always get caught up there. I’ve told this story so many times to the police, but it’s been ten years at least. I forget the parts that still hurt.

 

Where was I? Oh, yeah. They dismembered my parents. I wanted to stop them, but I knew the only reason I was alive was because they’d forgotten about me. So I sat there and did nothing. I waited in that closet while they cleaned everything up. They even did the dishes. They had a note that was supposed to be from my parents saying they’d skipped town. It was typed, but my parents had signed it. I think they signed it right before they were killed. I think my mom and dad really did believe the man was going to let them just walk away.

 

They put the note on the table and left. I remember on their way out the door they talked about grabbing a burger for dinner.

 

Even after they left I couldn’t move. I sat in that pantry for almost two days. I ate a pop tart and drank a little water, but not enough to have to go to the bathroom. I just sat there and smelled the lemon cleaner they used to mop up the blood. My grandmother found me when the school called because I hadn’t shown up.

 

At first the police believed the note. My mother’s family believed the note. I told everyone it wasn’t true. I told them about the man. I told them where to find my parents. The men who killed them talked about where they were going to dump the bodies. I told the police all of this. I told them their names were Lester Knox and Bruce Donaghue. Lester had a tattoo of a meremaid on his right forearm and Bruce was from my neighborhood. I looked up his address. I gave all of this to the police, but they didn’t believe me. They couldn’t find the bodies and my mom’s family was happy to say how disfunctional my parents were. Everyone thought them capable of abandoning me.

 

But then they discovered my father’s counterfeit set-up. He’d rented an apartment a few blocks from ours and the lease was in his desk at work. That got the federal marshals involved and Diana and Matthew were assigned to the case. They were the first ones to believe me.

 

I was eleven when my parents were murdered. After that I went to live with my grandparents, but they just thought my father’s counterfeiting proved that my parents had run off. My mother had always been secretive, they said. She was never cut out to be a mother. They kept telling me this as if it would change things. Everytime Diana or Matthew came by the house to ask me more questions my mother’s family begged me to take back my story. They said everyone had been hurt enough. Why did I keep doing this to them?

 

It took two years for them to find the bodies. They were buried in a park and I got the name of the park wrong. Diana figured it out because she recognized my description of the spot the guys said they were going to bury my parents. She moved heaven and earth to get them to dig up the spot, but my parent’s remains were there.

 

With bodies they finally opened an investigation into their murder. It took six months for arrests to be made and another year before they went to trial. Diana and Matthew kept my testimony a secret, but someone from my mom’s family talked. Probably not on purpose, but they did.

 

The first time they tried to kill me they broke into my bedroom at my grandmother’s and held a gun to my head. My grandfather heard the glass break and barged in with a gun of his own. The guy fled. He was an amatuer. That was a week before the trial. That was the first time they took me to a safe house.

 

The trial was a blur. I remember worrying about school. My testimony was what convicted Knox and Donaghue. They were sentenced to life in jail, but the night after the sentencing they were killed in their cells. They never served a day of their sentence for my parents murder.

 

The second attempt came after that. The man for whom my father work sent a professional this time. They found me at a safe house and killed two agents to get to me. The guy tied me to a chair. He wanted to know what I knew about the man. Did my father ever tell me his name? Did he ever talk about the work they were doing? He wanted to know what I might have told the police. But I knew that if I told him he’d kill me so I didn’t. He slapped me around and threatened to do to me what they did my mom and dad. But I didn’t break. I was fourteen. I’m still really proud of that.

 

Matthew put a bullet in the guy before he could kill me. After that I was taken in by WITSEC. For my 15th birthday Matthew and Diana gave me a choice. They would adopt me and protect me; I could have somewhat of a normal life, but I’d have to leave everything behind. Or they could bring my grandparents in and give us all a new life.

 

I wish it had been a hard choice, but it wasn’t.

 

My grandparents loved me. To them love was a duty you performed for family. I knew it. But they wanted me to be convenient. They would never want to give up their lives in their neighborhood. They would never want to leave their children and my cousins. They still blamed me for not letting everyone think my parents ran off together.

 

I’m a lot of things, but I’ve never been able to be convenient for someone. It’s just not in my nature.

 

So I walked away. I became Felicity Smoak.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver grapples with the truth of Felicity Smoak...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to spunkyar, who is a lovely flamingo and I know wants an update to this fic!

***

Oliver hates how small Felicity gets when she tells them her story.

They’re still on the plane. It’s sitting on the tarmac and the crew is waiting in the hanger. Diggle was there when they arrived with news of Gina and Lenore safely en route to Tahiti.

Felicity dropped her head into her hands. “How much do they hate me?” 

Diggle crouched next to her, “They’re scared, but they don’t hate you. They just want answers. We all do.”

She wilts a little under Diggle’s gaze. The other man isn’t mad. He’s quiet and still, but Oliver can feel the tension in the plane cabin. They’ve kept secrets from him and he’s hurt by that. Oliver gets it. They’re supposed to all be partners.

These weren’t his secrets to tell.

The other truth is he’s been selfish. Knowing that Felicity had a secret identity - even if he didn’t know the full story - made him feel less alone. On a practical level it changed little about their day to day existence. They still spent practically every waking moment together. But knowing that someone else struggled with the deception made each day a bit more bearable. Knowing that she’s held onto her Felicity-ness after ten years of lies has given him hope each time he disappoints someone. If she can do it and still be her then maybe someday he could too. So he’s been selfish. He hasn’t been eager for her to tell anyone else her secret. He liked being her person.

But now she’s in danger and that is all that matters. Danny Blevins or whatever his name is knows who Felicity is and he wants her to be scared of him. The connection to Anthony Ivo scares Oliver. He doesn’t want her connected - in any way - to the island.

Oliver stays silent as Felicity tells Diggle how Oliver figured out the truth. He makes no apology when Diggle gives him a look that says, _You should have told me._ There had been an unspoken agreement between the two of them when it comes to Felicity; they protect her together.

It isn’t until she starts her story from before she became Felicity Smoak that she shrinks in on herself. She curls into her seat and tucks her feet under her. Oliver’s hand touches the spot on his own chair where a few hours ago he’d tucked her feet next to his leg. He remembers the pressure of her ankle against his thigh and how she flexed her toes when she read something she liked on her tablet. She'd been happy then.

Only a few short hours ago they had been en route to his family’s home in Cabo. He hadn’t had a plan except to get her out of the city and away from their lives. He wanted to lighten her burden somehow and give her some sense of normal. Whisking her away on his private jet to a tropical island might not be normal for most people, but given the lives they led it was the closest he could come up with.

Cabo meant no mass murderers or sleepless nights. Oliver wanted to give that to her. Until he showed up in her office with that laptop she’d had it. She’d had normal as a boring IT girl with friends and dates and Friday nights at the movies. Even if it’d just been a weekend Oliver had wanted to give that back to her. But normal would have to wait because someone knew who she was.

_My name was Megan..._

***

When she finishes telling them her story she looks up at them, her eyes apologetic, and she pushes her lips into a smile.

“I know what you’re thinking. Gosh, Felicity dismembered parents, shadowy men, conspiracies...it’s something out of a Cormac McCarthy novel. Or actually not. It’s way too far fetched for his corpus. It’s more like a John Grisham thriller except without the thrills. It’s just one depressing thing after another. Seriously who has that much bad of luck? I bet you thought you had it Oliver, but I may just give you a run for you money. Not that I want to win that particular competition. I’d be happy not to win it...but I might. You don’t need to look at me like I’m broken. I’m not. I picked my name on purpose. I don’t want to be defined by the bad things that have happened to me. I want to -,”

“Stop,” Oliver shakes his head, “just stop.”

“Excuse me?”

He looks at her and part of him is happy because she’s not small anymore. Her shoulder are set wide and he swears her hair is actually bristling a bit, curls in every direction.

“Please stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop being okay with what happened to you. You shouldn’t be okay. It’s not okay.”

Diggle sits forward, “Maybe we should take a break…”

Felicity holds up a hand to cut him off. “No, I want to hear this.”

“You can’t be flippant about this,” Oliver says. “This is your life we’re talking about. Maybe if you got your head out of this dream you have that you’re just some boring IT girl then we can actually start dealing with reality.”

“Maybe if you got your head out of your ass -,”

“Excuse me?”

“-then you’d realize that this isn’t about you. It’s about me and I can react any damn way I want. Like I said before Oliver - you. don’t. get. all. of. me. You certainly don’t get to dictate my feelings.”

The muscles in her throat tighten. “I need some air,” she says and then she is gone.

***

Diggle doesn’t talk for a long time. He just sits there. But eventually he sighs and leans his elbows on his knees. “So do I even need to say it?”

“Say what?”

“I get that you’re scared Oliver, but you can’t take that out on her.”

“Every step she’s fought me, Dig. First it was telling me at all. Then it was on training. Now this. She tries to make it go away or turn it into a joke.”

“We all have our coping mechanisms.”

“Hers is going to get her killed.”

“That’s why she has us.”

“We’ve got to protect her.”

“And we will.”

Oliver rubs his hands over his face. He wants to punch something. Every time he thinks he can handle this he thinks of the way Felicity curled in on herself when she told the story. He thinks of the girl who had been Megan. That little girl’s parents had failed her. She had to sit and listen to mad men cut them up. She had her own family try to convince her the truth was too inconvenient to be bothered with. And then after all that she’d been granted just a few years with two people who actually loved her for her. She’d been a child. It wasn’t fair. No matter the horrors he faced on that island the fact is Oliver had been an adult. He had a whole life of good memories to sustain him over those five years. But she’d had nothing and no one. Gina and Lenore were her family, but they didn’t know. Oliver knows exactly how lonely it can be to carry a truth alone.

He nods his head as he stands up, “She’s never going to face this alone again.”

***

They go to the foundry because where else would they go?

Felicity starts searching for anything on Anthony Ivo while Diggle combs through the report on Matthew and Diana’s deaths. No one thinks it really was an accident. Oliver looks at Felicity when she says it, but she won’t look at him.

Oliver focuses on finding Danny Bevlins. The driver license Felicity finds for Danny Blevins lists an address outside of New York. She's pretty sure that is the real Danny Blevins, likely completely oblivious his identity had been stolen. Felicity digs through the emails Lenore exchanged with Blevins and finds a mention of living in some new condos in a rebuilt section of the Glades. He goes out as the Hood to check it out but it is another dead end. He waits there anyway because he doesn’t know what else to do. He knows he needs to apologize to Felicity, but he doesn’t know what to say. The things he’s feeling scare him and now is the wrong time to even be considering how his heart might feel. Like Felicity said -- this isn’t about him.

But eventually Diggle calls him home over the comms and Oliver knows it’s significant that it’s Diggle and not Felicity's voice in his ear.

When he returns to the foundry Felicity is packed up and wearing her coat.

“I figure you’re going to insist on escorting me home,” she says, resigned.

Oliver removes his equipment and eyes Diggle. He thought the other man would have broached the topic with her already, but if Oliver needs to be the bad guy then he’s fine with that.

“You’re not going home.”

“Like hell I'm not. I can’t live here.”

“No, you’re coming home. With me.”

“Felicity,” Diggle says, “it’s for the best.”

She looks between them for a long moment and lets out a little laugh. “You really think that the two of you are my parents? That you can just order me around? Cause that's not going to happen. I've survived this long and I'll manage.”

“We’re your friends, and it’s our job to keep you safe,” Diggle says.

“I never asked for this.” She finally looks Oliver in the eye as if she can browbeat him into letting her do this alone. Felicity may be stronger than him, but Oliver is more stubborn. 

“Partnership goes two ways Felicity. You’ve told Dig and me that we’re not alone.”

“You went to Russia to help rescue Lyla,” Diggle came to stand next to Oliver and side by side they present an united front.

“And you stayed when Merlyn wanted to level the glades,” Oliver’s voice catches, “So let us protect you. It’s what we do.”

Her eyes flutter close for a second and she just nods. It’s a tentative peace, but Oliver will take anything after today.

“Come on,” he guides her with a gentle hand to her back, “let’s go home.”

***


	11. Chapter 11

“Oliver, this is ridiculous,” Felicity protests as they pull up to the Queen mansion.

“It’s the only way.”

Oliver slides his arm around her waist and tries to ignore the way she stiffens.

“All we have to do is explain to your family that -,”

“The more explaining we do the more likely Blevins realizes we’re onto him,” Diggle pipes up from the front seat.

“Don’t you trust your own family?”

“Of course,” he says, “it’s everyone around them I don’t trust. Pretending you’re sleeping with me is the easiest way to explain why you’re camped out in my bedroom.”

“Again I don’t see why I need to be in your actual bedroom,” she gazes at the Queen mansion, “this place is like a fortress.”

Oliver doesn’t even try to come up with an excuse this time. He goes for honesty. “It’ll make me feel better.”

She leans back into his arm and touches his knee. “It’s going to be okay,” she says.

Their eyes meet and Oliver feels the grasp in his heart. It’s been happening for weeks - maybe months - now. When their eyes meet he feels it in his chest. Her gaze grabs him. It isn’t merely romantic or sweet. Its intensity scares him. Oliver doesn’t like it. He doesn’t want to feel this deeply for her. He doesn’t want to fall in love with her. But here she is reassuring him that it’ll be okay. Here she is holding out hope when it’s her life that is in danger. Her strength shakes him to his core. He can’t think or speak when she stares at him like that.

“It’ll be okay,” she repeats and then Diggle is opening the car door and Oliver feels her hand in his pulling him out.

***

Felicity has to give Moira Queen credit - when Oliver announces that his executive assistant is staying the weekend to “get some extra work done,” Moira doesn’t even blink. She guides Oliver away by the elbow and Felicity is left standing in the oversized entry with Diggle.

Who needs an entry this big anyways?

She rocks in her flats and from the corner of her eye catches Diggle grinning.

“You realize everyone is going to think we’re sleeping together.”

Dig just pulls out a piece of gum, “Everyone already thinks you’re sleeping together.”

She blusters for a moment and then sighs, “True enough.”

***

Oliver slips the playboy mask when his mother pulls him away. He grins and shrugs when his mother talks about professionalism.

“It’s just a bit of harmless fun,” he says.

But Moira isn’t convinced. “Harmless until she gets her heart broken and sues you and the company for sexual harassment.”

“Who says she’s the one who is going to end up with a broken heart?”

His mother gives him a look and Oliver shrugs, “The lawyers had her sign a bunch of paperwork. We’re covered. I’m not an idiot.”

Moira glances back over her shoulder and Oliver watches her eyes slide over Felicity. She’s wearing a sundress with oversized flowers on it and her panda flats. Oliver remembers the first time she was hurt because of him - the time Helena tied her up - and how her panda flats peaked out from behind her desk. He remembers the panic in his throat then; he’d had the same feeling today when they realized Danny Blevins knew her real identity. His feelings for Felicity might have been growing for longer than he cares to admit.

Oliver drops his voice, “She’s special Mom.”

Moira sighs. “Oliver, if she’s special then treat her that way.”

***

He tries.

He insists she takes the bed, and when she argues that the couch is fine he relents, but only on a technicality.

“Oliver, you’re being priggish,” Felicity says through the dark. There is moonlight and Oliver can make out her profile from his vantage point on the floor next to the couch.

“You insisted on taking the couch.”

“That’s because I thought you’d sleep in your bed.”

He leans up on one elbow, “Do you really think I’d do that?”

She hovers on one hip so that she’s facing him, perched on the edge of the couch cushions. Her hands grip the blanket high up under her chin.

“You’re so stubborn.”

“I’m trying,” he says and she doesn’t ask him to elaborate.

In the morning he leaves out clothes he asked Raisa to order for her, and takes a shower down the hall. Diggle stands guard outside his bedroom door and to Felicity’s credit she doesn’t say anything when she realizes that protection to the two men meant she was always going to have one of them within feet of her.

But he tries to give her space. He doesn’t make demands of her like he’d like too: don’t use your cell phone, don’t try to keep up with your EA work, don’t make jokes about your past, don’t say this was inevitable, don’t think this is your fault. Rather, he asks. He asks how she wants to do this and says nothing when she chooses to hole up in his bedroom researching Danny Blevins. He goes for a jog around the grounds mid-afternoon when sitting still for so long makes him agitated. It takes a lot for him to leave her like that - even with Diggle - but he does it because he can’t be unreasonable. He can’t treat her like a victim when she’s so determined not to be.

For that reason Oliver musters the courage to tell her later that evening what he’s really feeling.

“I’m not sure.” He shuffles his barefeet. She looks up at him from the couch. She insisted on the couch again just to see who is more stubborn him, but the both know it’s futile.

She sets her tablet down and looks at him with that gaze the squeezes his heart.

“Not sure about what?”

“I’m not sure how I feel,” he starts and closes his eyes. How can he say this without sounding like a selfish prick? “I’m not sure how I feel about the fact that other people know.”

“Know what?”

“About your past. Your secret identity.”

She smiles softly and pats the spot on the couch next to her. It takes Oliver half a minute before he relents and slides his body onto the leather couch. He slouches so his head rests on the back of the couch and his feet are perched on the coffee table. He looks at her.

“You’re still my guy Oliver,” she touches his shoulder, “the guy I trust more than anything.”

“You’re my best friend,” he says.

He says it because Felicity is special. She is different and if his heart continues down this path she’s going to his everything very quickly. And because of that she deserves to know why.

“And you’re mine.”

“That’s why if I’m brutish or insensitive it’s because I’m trying to protect myself as much I am you. I can’t lose you.”

She watches him. He can feel her eyes on him and he doesn’t raise his face to look at her expression. He doesn’t trust himself not to kiss her. 

Felicity doesn’t say anything. Instead, she slouches down next to him and curls herself into his side. Oliver slides an arm around her waist and they stay like that - her tucked into him and him holding onto her loosely - until the sun comes up the next morning.

***

It’s on the third day that Felicity finds something.

Her hair is piled high on her head and fly-aways flutter in her eyes. She pushes them away and punches the air with a tight fist.

“Gotcha!”

Danny Blevins isn't going to know what hit him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ashley & Funda, I blame you.

“No. Absolutely not.”

Diggle crosses his arms, “Oliver, listen to her. It’s a good idea.”

It took Felicity hours to work up the nerve to mention her plan to Oliver and mere seconds for him to say no. Of course. She has to give him points for consistency.

“How did you even find him?”

“I hacked myself.”

Oliver does a double take. “You did what?”

“We know he knows me from before I was me,” Felicity explains, “I mean I’m still me. I’ve always been me. A person can’t really not be them even if everything about them is changed...unless who we are is those things that can change. It’d make sense that -,”

“Felicity!”

She shakes her hands out to stop her existential rabbit hole and takes a deep breath.

“Blevins knows my whole story and he wanted me to know that. The question is why and we won’t get an answer unless I talk to him.”

“Or if the Arrow talks to him.”

“He already knows you’re the Arrow,” Diggle says.

“I don’t care.”

“And neither does he.” Felicity says. “Blevins doesn’t just know about my past he knows about my present. He knew who my friends are and my work schedule. He knows my life. So I hacked myself. I went looking in my own accounts for something I might have missed. A bug or tracer.”

“And?”

Felicity grinned, “He was right there the whole time. He copied the SD card on my phone and replaced it with one of his own. Identical in every way except with the addition of a tracker. He’s had full access to everything since.”  

“How did he get that close to you and us not notice?”

“We weren’t looking. I wasn’t. I’m sorry. I know this puts us all at risk.”

“Hey,” Diggle says, “this isn’t on you Felicity. If we start blaming ourselves for our pasts coming back to haunt us Oliver’d never get around to saving the city.”

This draws a much needed smile out of Felicity, but Oliver remains solid with his arms crossed and face unchanging. She crosses to him. Her hands are small against his arms, but she holds on to him trying to draw his focus on what this means. She can do something.

Finally, after months of training and years of trying to forget Felicity can do something. Her fingertips itch from a desire she didn’t know she had. It’s a yearning to take control of her own fate once again.  

“When Felicity was abducted by the Count,” Diggle says, “her phone was taken into evidence. Blevins turned up around then too. It wouldn’t have been hard to pose as an SPDC officer to make the exchange in the evidence room. The city was in chaos, and he took advantage.”

Oliver shakes his head, “Too convenient. We know the Count was funded by whoever has the Mirakuru and Blevins wanted you to to connect him with Ivo, the one man who knew more about mirakuru than anyone else.”

Diggle frowns, “Do you think that Blevins is working for Ivo?”

“Anthony Ivo is dead. I watched it happen. No, whoever is behind this it isn’t him.”

“The point,” Felicity elevated her voice, “is that I know how to find him.”

Oliver backs away from her and begins to pace. “Never going to happen,” Oliver stops in front of Diggle. “How is putting her right in front of Blevins protecting her?”

“You might want to ask me since it was my idea,” Felicity interjects, but Oliver doesn’t take his eyes off Diggle, who merely raises an eyebrow.

Oliver swears and turns away. His back is to them, and he holds onto the edge of the nearest workstation. The muscles in his back bunch under his t-shirt. She can see how tightly coiled he is.

He’s frustrated, she thinks. He wants to be able to protect her because he cares about her. Not like care cares about her, but cares in the way anyone would about a friend and partner. Felicity reminds herself what he said - she’s his best friend. Of course, he’s going to be protective.

She meets Diggle’s eye. He silently nods and makes himself scarce, opting to head upstairs to the club. Neither Oliver nor Felicity move even when the door shuts behind him. She holds her arms to her stomach and waits. Oliver rubs his thumb along his index finger and she recognizes the tell. It means he’s unsure and conflicted. The gesture is a reflex from archery, and when Oliver feels caught he reverts to the movements that have saved his life so many times.

Felicity finally says his name. The only other sound are her heels on the concrete floor, and she crosses to lean forward on the table side by side with him. She rests on her elbows and waits with eyes trained on him.

He drops his head and exhales.

“You know it’s a good idea -.”

“I know.”

A silence falls between them, and Felicity presses into his side and the warmth of him on her bare skins sends a shiver down her spine.

“Talk to me Oliver.”

“I need you.”

She remembers the last time he said that to her. It was in her bedroom the night he came to her apartment after they saved Walter. He’d come to ask her to come back. That was the night he started to encroach on the walls she’d so carefully built up over the years with his questions and stubborn persistence.

_“You deserve a normal life,” he’d said._

__

_And you deserve an honest one, she’d countered._

Right then Felicity wonders which is better: the ordinary life or the honest one?

Life has taught her it’s impossible to have both. She has already made her choice; she made it as a child when she refused to parrot the easy truth her family wanted her to believe about her parents and then again when she joined Oliver’s cause and a thousand other times when she chose what was right rather than what was easy. She chooses it again right now. There are no bullets flying, but what she feels brave still because she offers Oliver the truth.

“I need you too.”

He looks at her and she bites her lip. It isn’t an admission of love; Felicity’s feelings are too muddled. But she tells him the truth and hopes it is enough.

“I need you and I have no intention of risking that. Yes, I want to meet with Blevins face-to-face, but I’m not going to take any undue risks. I won’t leave you because I need you too.”

He snaps straight, as if terrified by what that might mean. Felicity ignores what his response might mean. She wraps an arm around his back. She pulls herself into the concave of his chest and pushes her nose into his sternum.

“Your life, your choice,” he whispers into her hair as he presses a kiss on the crown of her head.

Felicity smiles into his chest. “You’re evolving. A year ago you wouldn’t have ever agreed to this..”

“Hey, some of us aren’t geniuses. It takes us a little longer.”

She arches her neck to catch his eye, “Thank you, Oliver.”

Oliver’s arms come around her and for a few minutes they stay like that - they hug - leaning into one another, reality a distant memory, and for a few minutes Felicity knows the lulling comfort of ordinary gestures.

 

****  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3.21.16 - I've loved writing this story, but I've lost steam on it. Realistically I'll never finish. I hate to do that to a WIP, but I have other stories I want to write more and only so many hours in the day. So consider this story a finished WIP. Thanks for reading! - KA


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